


Briefly Held

by Cottonstones



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Skyhill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8540017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: When Skyhill is offered a record deal Dan finds himself leaving home, the Grumps, and Brian and Arin. Dan's departure upturns not only his life, but everyone around him. When Dan returns to California two years later he learns that sometimes your dreams aren't the things that make you happy, that life goes on without you, that people change, and the most painful lesson of all: sometimes the people in your life don't want you back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lygerzero14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lygerzero14/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We're Meant to Fly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588321) by [InkyStardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyStardust/pseuds/InkyStardust). 



> This was written as a commission by the wonderful [lygerzero14](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lygerzero14/pseuds/lygerzero14) and is also a direct sequel to a fic written by [InkyStardust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyStardust/pseuds/InkyStardust)'s fic [We're Meant to Fly](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7588321)
> 
> I want to note that InkyStardust was aware this was being written and gave permission to Lygerzero14 to ask for a commissioned sequel!

Dan only makes it four blocks away from Brian’s place before he’s got his phone out. He isn’t calling Brian, even though every single part of him is screaming to stop the car, go back, make sure Brian is okay, but Dan can’t do that. Realistically he knows he can’t. Realistically he’s got to speed through a portion of downtown to make it to the airport on time so he doesn’t miss his flight to New York. 

Dan tabs through his phone until he finds Arin’s number, and then he’s tapping call and shouldering his cell phone against his ear so he can make the appropriate turn. It rings once, twice, three times, _four_ times, and Dan remembers a time when Arin would pick up on the first ring, but that was before this, before now. 

“Hello?” Dan hears Arin say. His voice has a calm and casual blankness to it that makes Dan ache all over. 

“Hey, Arin,” Dan aims for normal, trying to sound like he hadn’t just cried back at Brian’s place when he had to say his goodbyes. 

“Hey,” Arin says, slow, sluggish, like he doesn’t want to be having this conversation at all. “Did you make it to the airport?” 

“Not yet. I, um, I had to stop off at Brian’s…you know.”

There is a silence, one where Dan doesn’t know what Arin is thinking and he hates that feeling. He used to know Arin like the back of his hand, like an extension of himself, could read Arin like a book. Now he’s lucky if he knows half of what Arin is thinking. 

“How did that go?” Arin asks with a sigh. 

“Not, um, not too well. It’s hard, you know? I’ve known him for a long time and the band and everything, and I…that’s kind of why I was calling actually?” 

God. Dan hates this. He wishes he had more time. This kind of business shouldn’t be discussed while he’s driving to an airport, distracted by making sure he doesn’t crash his car. He doesn’t have time, but he wants it, would kill for just a second to pause everything around him so he could set a few more things into motion. 

“What do you need, Dan?” Arin asks, flat, but not mean, not mad. Arin sounds like he’s tired, like he wishes he had just a little more time too. It guts Dan that even now, even in this situation with Dan leaving, upending their lives, he’s still trying to give Dan exactly what he needs. 

“I just…I don’t think Brian is taking this well, and I’m worried, and if there was _any_ goddamn way I could stay and fix all of this I would, but I just…I just want to know if you’ll keep an eye on him? Make sure he’s okay?” 

Again, there is that silence over the line but Arin is quicker to respond this time. 

“Of course I will, Dan,” Arin says, and Dan thinks it sounds less like he’s doing Dan a favor and more that Arin was going to be there for Brian anyway, regardless of Dan asking. 

“Thanks, man,” Dan says. He sighs. Not for the first time he’s having doubts about leaving. Dan’s barely gotten sleep this week, thinking of his impending flight, of saying his goodbyes, of leaving behind the life he loves so dearly for one he always dreamed of. “I, um, I gotta go, but I’ll call you when I land, let you know I made it safe?” 

“Sure man, have a good flight,” Arin says. 

“Thanks,” Dan replies and he aches for more, to apologize maybe, even though he’s already hashed this out with Arin. “Bye, Arin.” 

“Bye, Dan.” 

They hang up and Dan feels like crying all over again. Brian’s goodbye had been the most difficult but Arin’s was right up there, toeing the line. Arin was the first one Dan told about the offer, how the record company wanted to sign Skyhill after Dan and Pete had released an EP of new material, how amazing it was, how it meant tours, and big shows for stadium-sized crowds, how “Firefly” was getting played on the radio at a near nauseating rotation. But for all that good, it also meant that Dan had to leave, that he couldn’t do the show anymore, that he couldn’t focus on NSP and Starbomb anymore. It meant he had to go. 

Dan won’t ever forget how the smile on Arin’s face had gradually dimmed, shrunk down, until it was non-existent. In a way, leaving Game Grumps felt like the ultimate betrayal. It was the show and Arin that brought new life to NSP, that saved it, and allowed Dan to live out his dreams. To turn his back on that when his bigger and better dreamed showed up…he couldn’t shake what an asshole that made him feel like, even if Arin had clasped his shoulders with shaking hands and told him: 

“I’m happy for you.” 

They all said they were, all his friends, his fellow Grumps, Brian. Everyone was happy to see how big Dan’s original band had suddenly gotten, how in-demand Skyhill was. They had done what Dan considered nearly impossible and broken into the mainstream. He had gotten about one hundred texts when they used a Skyhill song for a Coke commercial. 

People were angry too, of course they were. The Grump fans were pissed that Dan was leaving to do ‘serious’ music, proclaiming in comments and tweets and the Subreddit that they knew it was going to turn out this way all along. People were vowing to never watch Game Grumps again, and that concerned Dan because that was his friend’s source of income, their well-being, and if him leaving was going to affect that, he wasn’t sure he could handle it. 

He felt selfish for leaving even though this has always been his dream. He’s always wanted to be a rock star, and he had that with NSP, he did, but not to this scale. He loved Ninja Sex Party, but Dan always had dreams of getting big on his more personal music, feeling like a legitimate artist, getting what he struggled for all those years ago when he was growing up and barely surviving. He felt like he owed it to some younger version of himself that lived in his car, that slept in roach-infested apartment buildings. He owed it to _that_ Dan to make Skyhill work for real. 

The entire drive to the airport, Dan can’t stop thinking of Brian. Once, so many years ago, their roles were reversed, and so many years ago, it was Brian telling Dan he had to go, that he had to move to London and take that teaching job. Back then Dan thought NSP was dead, could feel his dream shatter in his hands, could feel his heart breaking apart, but he still let Brian go. 

Was that what it was like for Brian now? That same crushing heartbreak? Dan sucks in the shallow breath that wants to leave him, grips the steering wheel tighter as he parks his car in the long-term parking lot. Arin and Suzy have the spare set of keys, they’d take care of it, take it back to Dan’s place. He couldn’t bring himself to sell the house he’d bought in California, that felt like too much of a goodbye, too permanent, so he kept the house and he’s planning on renting an apartment for when he’s in New York. Though it seemed idiotic considering how much he’s going to be on tour, how he’ll have no time to be in either home. 

Once, what felt like hundreds of years ago at this point Arin had interviewed Dan, and Dan had waxed poetic about California and L.A. and how it felt like home to him, more so than New York had, and Dan had been sure in that moment that California and L.A. and with the Grumps was where he’d always be. It seemed that no matter how old he got, life still showed him he should never be so sure about anything. It seemed strange how now he was going back to New York, back to Skyhill, like this airplane was actually a portal through time and Dan would find himself back in his twenties once he touched down, a chance for a do-over. 

\--

Arin waits two days before he follows up on Dan’s request. A part of him didn’t want to even do it, to spite Dan. If Dan was so damn worried about Brian, why didn’t he _stay_? So he could make sure Brian was alright? Why didn’t he call the producers and the label and Peter and tell them he needed a little more time? Why did he still expect Arin to clean up his messes? 

Thinking that way wasn’t fair to Brian. It wasn’t fair to anyone. How much had Arin sacrificed in his pursuit of his dreams? How much had he left behind? Arin knew from the word ‘go’ that Dan’s heart always belonged to music. Game Grumps was just a stroke of luck, a happy accident for all involved that got everyone what they wanted. Arin once thought Game Grumps was over back when Jon left, and maybe that has a lot to do with the bitterness he feels roll through him when he thinks of Dan. Where once thoughts of Dan and his smile and his dumb, doofy laugh had made Arin grin, had made his heart soar, now he felt pain, sharp edges of a cracked heart prickling at his insides. Dan knew what happened when Jon left. He knew how hard it was, and how scared everyone was, waiting to see if the show would survive. And it _had_ , they had made it. After all of that, after Dan _knew_ how long it took Arin to truly recover from that, how could he do the same thing? 

 

Arin leaves his house after breakfast, Suzy still sleeping peacefully in their bed. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t checking on Brian at all. Dan had pissed him off, but he knew the words were true. Dan’s departure had hurt Brian, had affected him—them all really—in a deep way, but Brian wasn’t bouncing back the way everyone else had begun to. 

Arin had texted Brian that first day that Dan left a couple of hours after he’d gotten off the phone with Dan. The message had been simple, a quick _Hey, man, just wanted to check in,_ to which he had gotten no response. Arin hadn’t been surprised by the lack of contact. Brian didn’t like others to see him too emotional, and he also knew that when Brian was upset he was quick to shut down and lock others out, isolating himself with his emotions until things made sense again, until he could work it out inside his brain. 

Arin had texted the next day, a firmer, _Need to know if you’re okay, man._

To which Brian had responded, _I’m alive._

Arin had sighed, cradled his phone in his hands. He had sent back, _That isn’t what I asked._

That was all he got from Brian. That led to now, to today, where Arin knew he couldn’t put off the task any longer. He needed to actually go and check in on Brian. 

None of them had really been to the office since Dan had left. They still had episodes going up, backlogs of the last ones he had recorded with Dan, and Arin can’t even check the channel, can’t look at them. The recording session had been awkward enough. He had wanted the episodes to be good, to end on a good note, satisfy the fans—though that seemed a task none of them could make happen—but Arin couldn’t help but let the sorrow burrow inside of him. Each episode that passed and each second that ticked away, each “Next time on Game Grumps,” drew Arin to a time when there would be no more “Next time.” 

Dan had cried on his final episode, had thanked the lovelies for their support, had thanked Arin and pulled him into a hug and Arin had pressed his face into Dan’s shoulder and tried not to cry along with him. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t understand it. If it hurt Dan so badly, why did he say yes? Why did he take the deal? Why weren’t they good enough for Dan to stay? 

The drive to Brian’s place isn’t that long, and by the time Arin pulls in the driveway, he has no real plan of what to say to the other man. It’s very likely Brian won’t want to talk, but even beyond holding up a promise to Dan, Arin is worried about Brian in his own right and wants to make sure Brian is okay, that Brian will _be_ okay. 

Arin pads up to the door, his flip-flops slapping the pavement. He knocks once, licking his lips, sweating already in the bright morning of the California sun. He’s honestly surprised to hear the stumble of feet against the wood floors of the house and then a rough bark of a voice that only vaguely sounds like Brian. 

“Who is it?!” 

“Brian? It’s me, man, it’s Arin. Can I come in?” Arin calls, nerves already prickling under his skin. He doesn’t want to do this, but he wants to make sure Brian is okay. He’s always had a need to care for the people around him. Suzy pinches his cheeks and calls him her bleeding heart and Arin can’t argue with her. 

Arin can hear the clack of the lock turning before he sees the door being opened. The last thing he notes are steel blue eyes flickering over his face from the dimness of the inside of the house. For a second Arin thinks Brian is going to slam the door in his face, but instead it’s pulled open. Brian leans his weight against the door, his facial hair already thick and a little unruly even with just the few days since Dan left. His fingers tighten around the edge of the door as if he needs to hold on to maintain his balance. Brian looks mostly normal, if not tired and frayed around the edges, purple rings around his eyes. He probably hasn’t been sleeping. His clothes are crumpled and loose, so he probably hasn’t been showering either. 

“What?” Brian says, voice rough but not mean, maybe a little annoyed that Arin made him come to the door. 

“I came to see how you were,” Arin says, keeping his voice steady and calm. He’s still nervous, and that makes him sad. He’s rarely nervous around Brian. 

Brian’s eyes flicker over Arin’s form, as if trying to read him. 

“Because he asked you–”

“Because you’re my friend,” Arin says loudly, overpowering Brian’s words. There’s a beat of silence between them and Arin can feel his mouth going dry “Now, are you going to let me in?” 

Brian makes a quiet hiss of noise, a light sigh, and he moves away from the door, retreating into the house and letting Arin follow him. Arin shuts the front door, blocking out the overbearing sun and shrouding them in the dimness of Brian’s place. 

Brian hasn’t just been neglecting taking care of himself, but his home as well. Dirty dishes fill the sink, take-out containers line the counters, beer bottles spread across the coffee table. Brian had padded into the living room and Arin is following him when he stops to peer down the hallway leading to Brian’s room. Clothes are strewn along the hall and Arin’s eyes widen as he notes just what’s lying there abandoned against the wood floor: Brian’s ninja mask. Arin squints against the darkness and sees it’s not just the mask, it’s the entire Ninja Brian outfit, a few of the NSP and Starbomb shirts they sold in the store too, all of it thrown out into the hall like it was garbage. 

“Did you come here for a reason? Or just to stand in the entry way?” Brian calls from the living room, his rough voice shaking Arin from the trance he had momentarily fallen into. He shakes his head, smooths a hand through his ponytail, and pads into the living room. 

Brian is sitting on the couch, hands balled into loose fists against his jean-covered thighs. He looks up when Arin enters the room, like he’s waiting, or worse, _daring_ Arin to say anything about the state of his household. Arin is quiet as he sits in the armchair across from the couch, giving Brian space if he needs it. He knows he’s got to be careful about this, to express that he’s worried. He wants to make sure Brian is okay, and he’s got to do it without babying Brian, without handling him like suddenly he’s made of glass, a fragile little thing without Dan. If he pisses Brian off, he might just set him back even further. 

“Well?” Brian says, watching Arin like he’s a threat. It’s a look Arin isn’t used to receiving from the man. 

“None of us have really heard from you,” Arin says, “or have seen you. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright, Brian.” 

Brian glances around his living room, raises a hand in a sweeping moment, “What’s your verdict?” 

“I know it’s hard,” Arin says, instead of answering Brian directly. “I get it. I’m hurting too. We all are. Dan was a big part of all of us.” 

Brian nods, his eyes locking on the beer bottles littering the coffee table, too many to count at first glance. Is this where Brian has been? Locked in some dim alcohol-tinged stupor? 

“Yeah,” Brian says, his voice small and weak and so very unlike the Brian Wecht that Arin knows, that he thought he knew. He doesn’t know this Brian. Maybe no one does, or maybe the one person that does is the same one that caused this. 

“I’m just saying. If you need to talk, I’m right here. If you’re having a hard time–”

“Look!” Brian snaps, head whipping up, “I don’t need pity, and I don’t need you to sugarcoat shit for me. I’ve never needed that from anyone.” 

“Brian–” Arin starts, mouth gaping open because he’s never heard Brian sound like this before, never in a serious manner. 

“I think I know why you’re here,” Brian starts, trampling over Arin’s words, “So if you’re going to let me go, just do it.” 

“Let you go?” Arin asks, his own voice losing steam. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here, maybe he couldn’t fix things the way he wanted to. He tries hard to take care of his friends, but maybe this is out of league. 

“You’re going to make me say it?” Brian asks, “Fire me.” 

“I’m not fucking here to fire you, dude!” Arin says, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why would you think that?” 

“Because it makes sense. The only common link between us all was Danny and now…”Brian trails off for a moment, shaking his head as if to reset his thoughts. “Now that link is gone.” 

“Brian,” Arin begins, and now he’s up and moving across the living room, dropping down on the couch next to Brian but still giving him space, not touching him and not trying to, “I might know you because of Dan, but that’s not the reason I hired you, and just because Dan decided to leave doesn’t mean I’d make you go too. You’re a Grump through and through and we need you, man.” 

Brian is quiet next to Arin, face turned down. He looks so tired. Arin wonders how long it’s been since he’s slept. It’s like Brian’s world stopped the moment Dan left his apartment. 

“All I keep thinking,” Brian says, voice much softer than it had been since Arin arrived, “Is that this is some karma bullshit. Some payback because I left him to go to London. I left and almost killed the band, and so now I’m just getting back what I deserve.” Brian tips his head back against the fabric of the couch, eyes fluttering closed, “It’s fucking stupid. I don’t even _believe_ in shit like karma but I can’t help but feeling I brought this on myself.” 

“You didn’t,” Arin says, a little too fast, and it’s just now he’s realizing how quick his heart is beating in his chest. He hates confrontations. He hates talking about Dan being gone. He misses Dan as much as Brian does, feels a little like his world stuttered, but it didn’t skid to a halt, that’s the difference between them. Arin kept going because that’s what he was used to, Brian fell down because he was not. “Like you said, karma is bullshit, right? It was just what Dan wanted, it was his choice, his _dream_.” Arin says it like he needs to remind himself. This was always Dan’s dream. “It’s no one’s fault.” 

Brian’s staring at the ceiling, at a fixed point Arin can’t find. His mouth is a flat line of scruff. 

“I gave up my teaching job to come here and work for the Grumps. Dan was a big part in that. You all too, of course, you even offering was amazing, Arin. I was so fucking nervous, so scared I was screwing up, but Dan encouraged me. He would tell me how much he loved you guys, and the job, and how I would love it too. How he’d love to have me there.” 

Brian tilts his head to the side so his eyes meet with Arin’s, scanning the younger man lightly. 

“I know we were kinda like a packaged deal. I get it, okay? You hired me because Dan talked me up, because you guys had Dan, so I’ve always been a straight shooter, you know that. I-I’m fucking giving you an out, Hanson. Don’t feel obligated to keep me around now.” 

“ _Brian_ ,” Arin says, his heart sinking in his chest. How could Brian think that? Think the only reason they brought him in was because Dan wanted it? It’s so far from the truth, it makes Arin’s chest ache. “We all wanted you to join. It was a group decision. We knew you were fucking hilarious and a literal genius and we _wanted you_. We still do now. Nothing has changed, Brian.” 

Arin can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Brian cry. One being the vaporwaves, two being when NSP sold out a show in mere seconds, and the third time is now, when to Arin’s surprise, Brian’s piercing blue eyes fill with tears. He closes them, his body trembling, but wetness slips out the corner of his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. 

Arin doesn’t hesitate. He reaches out and he grabs Brian’s shoulder, tugging him in, and another surprise, Brian doesn’t punch him, doesn’t try to wiggle free. He lets Arin pull him into a tight hug. Arin’s hand smooths up and down Brian’s back, his chin hooked over Brian’s shoulder. 

“It will be okay,” Arin says, “Maybe not today, but someday. It will be okay, Brian.” 

After a few moments Arin sits back and Brian embarrassingly wipes at his eyes, letting out a small sigh. 

“Statistically I know you’re right, but it’s hard to see the big picture when some of the pieces have been taken away. NSP is done, Starbomb is done, Grumps is–”  
“We’re going to manage,” Arin says, “like we always do. We’ll figure it out, but we have to do it as a family, including you. It doesn’t have to be right away, but come back to the office, Brian, okay? We miss you.” 

Brian nods, runs a hand through his hair, lets out another sigh, like Arin is asking the world of him. He glances at Arin. “Thanks, man. For stopping in. It’s good to see a friendly face.” 

Arin lets himself smile for the first time in what feels like days. 

\--

It’s three days after that before Brian actually turns up at the office. Arin is at his desk, dicking around online when he hears Jack say, “We missed you, man,” in his calming lilt. Arin slides his headphones off the rest of the way from where they had been cocked on the side of his head, leaving one ear opened in case anyone needed him. He looks over and he sees Brian stepping into main room of the office. He looks around nervously, again, a look Arin is not used to seeing on the other man. He’s used to Brian brimming with confidence, with his persona of not giving a shit and flipping people the bird. 

Jack pats Brian on the arm and returns through sorting the mail that got brought in.. Suzy smiles from her desk and waves, calling, “Hey, Brian.” Vernon does the same. Arin is glad they aren’t treating it like a big deal. He’s worried if they rush him then Brian will take off again, as if he were some easily spooked animal. 

Brian’s eyes find Arin and Arin gives him an easy smile, a simple nod. 

“Good to see you, man.” 

“Yeah,” Brian says as he approaches Arin’s desk, his fingertips brushing the smooth surface, like he needed contact, to remind himself it was all okay, “Sorry it wasn’t sooner. I just kinda spent some time thinking, and then cleaning, and getting my shit together in general, you know?” 

Arin nods, he does know. Brian has been texting him regularly, either general conversations or just about how he’s doing. He didn’t know today would be the day Brian showed his face in the office, but he’s glad the step has been made. 

“Should I…” Brian begins, “Should I jump back on social media or–” Arin can tell Brian is still feeling insecure about his role, about his place in the office with them. Arin wants Brian to feel normal and good, feel like he _belongs_ , but he’s not sure online is the ideal place for him right now. 

“Twitter is kind of a shit-show,” Arin says, frowning. He had taken a peek earlier at the Game Grumps Twitter account and an overwhelming amount of it was all centered around Dan. People saying they were unsubscribing, accusing Arin of driving off yet another co-host, people saying Game Grumps should end, some people asking if he still talked to Dan, if he still liked Dan. That wasn’t really the environment Arin wanted to send Brian to his first day back. 

“Maybe just chill? Kinda ease into it, you know?” Arin was never one for micro-managing. The others knew what needed to be done, and he didn’t have to spell it out for them. 

“Okay,” Brian agrees easily. He pads over to his desk and sits down, back stiff against the black leather of his chair. His keyboard is still set-up near his work station and Arin doesn’t miss how Brian looks at it with a wince, a flickering of pain passing over his features. 

Brian boots up his computer and Arin tries to go back to his own work. He’s got a lot on his plate. The remainder of the episodes he had recorded with Dan were running out and soon they would have to make a decision. When Jon left, Arin already had Dan swimming in his mind. He never thought there would come a time when he’d have to do it all over again. His brain is fuzzy and blank, each name flitting through not feeling good enough, not feeling like it had with Dan, and Arin is fucking terrified that he will never find that easy chemistry again. That he and Dan were a once-in-a lifetime kind of deal. 

His first instincts are to go inner-office. He keeps waffling between Ross and Barry, but Ross has Steam Train as well as his animation. Barry wanted to stop editing to have more time to work on other creative projects. Arin feels like he can’t push a job on them that neither technically asked for. He hasn’t brought it up to anyone else. Suzy had tried to ask him, to poke lightly at the topic as she twined her fingers in his hair and rubbed at his scalp, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t voice to even her the turmoil he felt over choosing a replacement for Dan. 

Speaking of Dan. He and the other man hadn’t talked in a few days’ time. Arin had texted him after leaving Brian’s house three days ago, had let him know that he had fulfilled the promise he made. Dan had texted back that he was grateful, that he was sorry for putting this all on Arin. That he was safe in New York, that it was cold, even for the summer, and that he’d talk to Arin soon. That was three days ago and Arin hasn’t received a text or a call from Dan. Granted, Arin hadn’t texted or called either. He was scared, maybe scared to hear Dan’s voice, scared to hear Dan was happy, scared he’d say something stupid like, “Come home.” 

\--

Dan isn’t used to sleeping in such a small bed anymore. He misses his giant bed, where his feet didn’t hang off the edge. Since arriving in New York a week ago he’s been staying in a hotel that the label was paying for. It was a nice place at least, not some hole in the wall. Dan yawns, runs a hand through his hair and peers out the window at the overcast gray sky. He sighs, grabbing his phone and flicking to the weather app, hovering over California where Dan still had the info saved. It was a bright and sunny ninety degrees in California right now. That was a part of why Dan liked the state so much. The weather was hot, yes, but it was bright and warm and it played a part in making Dan feel energized, helped lift his spirits. Maybe then he could blame the stormy weather that has plagued New York the entire time he’s been here as the culprit for the blip of sadness that worms through him. He misses the sun, that’s all. 

The last few days have been a whirlwind of sorts for Dan. He was picked up from the airport a week ago by a driver provided by the label and driven first to the hotel to check-in, and then directly to the label to meet with them face-to-face. Peter had been waiting for him to arrive. Peter was a good guy, Dan always thought so, even when they had disagreements. Even when the band split the first time around, Dan never held it against him. But Peter was all but a stranger to Dan at this point, hardly someone Dan could count as a friend. 

He was sat down in that room where he met with the executive of the label, the producer of their album, where he was engaged in small talk and then was told more or less what the ‘plan’ for Skyhill was. The plan was to record an album, to put out singles, to tour, get Dan and Peter on television, on commercials, have their songs play on TV shows and in movies. It all felt so unreal to Dan, but Peter nodded along eagerly, finally getting the success they were both after the first time around. Dan couldn’t complain, the plan sounded good, sounded standard and what he wanted, what a real band would do. He liked being busy and working, he always had in a way. If he wasn’t creating something, he didn’t feel like himself. 

Despite all their big plans for Skyhill the first few days were slow-moving. Dan was introduced to the team who would help with the album, he visited friends who still lived in the city, he called Avi and Debbie and his sister. He thumbed over Arin and Brian’s names in his phone what felt like one hundred times, aching to call them but being scared shitless to actually do so. He doesn’t think they want to talk to him. When Dan thinks of Brian all he can see was one of his best friends, someone who was like a brother to him, breaking apart because of Dan. With Arin, it’s much the same, Arin’s sad eyes sticking in his mind. Really, he’s scared to call, to find the day when Arin won’t pick up. 

Today he and Peter have plans to hit up some old haunts together, sort of get reacquainted. They had spoken only over skype and FaceTime all those months ago when “Firefly” was made. Dan hadn’t seen him in person in nearly ten years. He’s desperate for a friend, for human contact, so he was quick to warm to the idea. Besides, if he and Peter are going to be recording, writing, touring, all that shit, Dan knows they needed to have a pretty good relationship. 

Dan tugs on a well-worn T-shirt and jeans, scratching at his stomach as he digs in his small travel bag for his toothbrush. From the bathroom Dan hears his phone chime with a text message, and he’s quick to pad out of the bathroom and to his bed where he left his phone. He scoops it up and doesn’t admit how much he wants it to be one of the Grumps, one of his friends back home, as he unlocks his phone. It isn’t them though, it’s Peter, a simple text: _How does breakfast sound? I know a good diner._

Dan’s heart falls a little, but he sucks it up, pretending it isn’t an issue, that he isn’t disappointed. He taps out a reply, trying to feel more positive, happy just to be going out and doing something: _Sure, man, let me know the address._

Twenty minutes later Dan’s cab parks him in front of this small diner. It’s just before the lunch-rush, so it’s not as packed as it could be. Peter is already inside, had texted Dan when he arrived five minutes ago. 

“Hey man,” Dan says, nodding at Peter. 

Peter smiles at him and Dan goes to sit across from him in the plastic booth. There’s a cup of coffee on Dan’s side of the table next to the laminated menu. 

“I ordered it black. I wasn’t sure what you take in it these days.” 

“Thanks,” Dan says, smiles, but it’s just a highlighted sign that they don’t know each other anymore. Peter doesn’t know that Dan prefers tea over coffee, Dan doesn’t know what Peter always orders at restaurants. For a moment Dan misses having a loud group wrapped around a Formica table, laughing himself stupid watching Arin eat a disgusting number of pancakes, he misses Brian sharing his toast, he misses hearing Ross tell the same stories over and over again. He misses them all so fucking much in this moment in the middle of a quiet diner in New York. 

Dan steels himself, takes a breath, and struggles through the second, waits until it fades, until he can breathe again. 

“How do you like it so far?” Peter asks, sipping at his own coffee. 

“It’s weird, like, going back in time but not?” Dan answers with a laugh, “I kinda can’t believe this still. Who knew Skyhill would live again?” 

“Not just live, but _thrive_ ,” Peter says, his eyes sparking with excitement. “It’s all thanks to those YouTube fans.” 

Dan flinches on the inside at the mention of YouTube, the life he had that gave him the life he’s living now. Against better judgment he spent a couple of nights reading the Game Grumps Subreddit, he read people accusing him of using Arin and the show and Brian to get what he wanted and then leaving when he achieved it. Dan wants to argue, to say it wasn’t like that, but the longer it goes on, the harder it is to build a defense. He thinks of Brian with tears in his eyes, he thinks of the last time he and Arin spoke. He thinks of the Danny Sexbang outfit carefully bagged and hung in his closet at his house in California. His stomach rolls and he flaps the menu shut. 

“Yeah, I’m not exactly their favorite person right now,” Dan says with a laugh, but it guts him. 

“Oh?” Peter asks, he shrugs, not comprehending it the same way Dan does. “They love you. They’ll come around. This is huge, Dan, and maybe they’re too young to realize it, but you don’t let your dream slip away from you a second time. You made the right choice.” 

Dan stares at the picture of the grilled cheese sandwich on the front of the menu, his stomach hurts, but he nods. He made the right choice. Didn’t he? 

“I’m excited to work on the new stuff, man. I had this crazy horn melody looping in my head for days now. I think it’d make a rad addition to a song.” 

Dan nods, tries to get invested, to pay attention. This was important, this was life now, and the album was the start of it. 

\--

It’s been three weeks since Dan left, and Arin thinks life is about as close to the new normal as it’s going to get. It doesn’t hurt quite as bad to think of Dan, though Arin has still only texted him a handful of times in the last couple of weeks. They haven’t spoken on the phone at all. They’ve all resumed working in the office normally, even Brian, who has taken the reigns on their social media, jumping back in as enthusiastically as he had before. Arin thinks it’s a little bit of throwing himself into his work so he doesn’t focus on other things, on Dan. Brian doesn’t update the NSP Twitter or Instagram, instead focusing on the Grumps-related ones. 

As for the show, the last of Dan’s Game Grumps episodes have officially run out and the channel is surviving on alternating Grumpcade and Steam Train episodes. Mark and the guys from SuperMega are guesting a lot, filling in, trying to help them keep fresh content out. Arin knows he’s on a tight schedule for making the ultimate decision about the show. Does he bring back Game Grumps or does he let it die? Do they just make something new altogether? In his heart of hearts, he’s not ready to let it go. He’s not ready to be done. 

Today, he and Brian are in Arin’s living room, each of them taking up an end of the couch. Brian has been spending a lot of time with Arin in the last couple of weeks, just coming over to watch movies, to talk. Sometimes he’ll call Arin when he’s sliding into a funk, scared to slip back into that place where he wasn’t taking care of himself. They are leaning on each other, Arin knows it, recognizes it. As Brian had once said, their mutual connection had been Dan, and now that connection was gone, and it had left something big and aching and empty in its wake, and maybe Brian and Arin are trying to bridge that gap, fill that space by spending time together. 

The episode of _Stranger Things_ they had been watching ends and Brian turns to Arin. 

“This isn’t exactly the happiest show, man.” 

“I know,” Arin says with a laugh, tucking down the ball of sadness that clutches at his chest. “Barry told me to watch it, but now I’m thinking Barry is an asshole.” 

Brian laughs. The sound makes Arin’s chest brighten, a smile spread across his mouth. It was nice to hear Brian laugh again, nice to see him happy. 

“Not that I don’t mind binge-watching with you, but can you afford this day off?” Brian asks. 

Arin nods, pushes a hand through his hair where the fine strands are beginning to slip from his ponytail. He doesn’t want to talk about work, but he knows it’s important, and not something he can run away from forever. 

“Yeah, it should be okay for now. I, um, I actually wanted to talk to you about something if that’s cool?” 

“Of course,” Brian says. “You can talk to me about anything. You should know that.” 

Arin smiles, but it sets the nerves to light in his chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about whether or not Game Grumps should continue, and if so, in what format it should continue, who should replace Dan. It seems impossible to replace him almost…” Arin trails off and he glances at Brian to see if he’s comfortable continuing the conversation. 

Brian’s eyes are a little heavier, but he doesn’t stop the conversation, doesn’t make Arin change the subject. He nods. 

“Dan is…he’s one-of-a-kind.” 

Arin’s chest tightens and can feel that gap between them, the slot where Dan should be. He’s afraid it might not ever fade, that he might always feel it there, but it’s that fear that urges him on. Arin can’t pretend that Dan might change his mind and come back. He has to move on, sink into his new life the same way that Dan had in New York. 

“The point is, I’ve been trying to decide who could take the role of Not-So-Grump and I put a lot of thought into it. I’m not making this decision lightly, and I’m not trying to pressure you, but I want to offer you the position, Brian.” 

Arin’s heart is in his throat while he waits for Brian to answer. He knew it was a big decision to make. Whoever took over Dan’s role was going to be subject to mass criticism, worse than Dan had received when he took over for Jon. It was a lot to ask his new co-host and Arin knew it. 

Brian’s eyes are wide as he glances up at Arin. 

“You really want me to take over Dan’s spot?” 

“I asked you, didn’t I?” Arin asks with a laugh. 

“Yes, and I’m flattered, really, but–”

“But?” Arin asks, panic filling him. If Brian says no, he has back-ups but he was hoping this would work, would be as easy as it was to bring Dan into the fold. 

“But are you offering it to me out of pity or something? Because you feel bad for me?” 

“No! Brian, no. I’m asking you to take the spot because you’re smart and funny as hell, and you aren’t going to give a shit about what the fans have to say about you taking the spot. Plus, you know, you and I get along pretty well, I’d say.” 

Arin sees Brian smile now, brush a hand through his salt and pepper hair. Arin isn’t going to mention it but he wanted Brian for the position because now that Brian didn’t have NSP and Starbomb, he had more time in the office, could handle the long recording schedules. All the other reasons were true as well. Arin hadn’t lied about how funny he thought Brian was, that he was tough and would be able to take or ignore what was said, that Arin wouldn’t mind spending hours of time with him while they would be recording. 

“Well, thank you, Arin. I appreciate the offer and…and I’d love to do it, honestly.” 

Arin laughs, his heart bursting. The fact that he had the issue settled was a relief off his shoulders, recording and waiting to see how the fans reacted to Brian in his new role was a whole other issue, but for now this was something Arin could be happy about. He can’t help but reach over and tug Brian in for a hug. Arin feels Brian’s arms wind around him, his hands patting at Arin’s back as he lets out a rough laugh.

\--

It’s been a month since Brian took the position of Not-So Grump. To say his life in the past month and a half has turned upside down is an understatement. While on the outside it seemed not much hadn changed, he’d merely shifted roles in the company and stopped making music—something he never dared dream before. On the inside it all felt momentous and huge, bigger than Brian himself. 

Arin plops down on the couch as he turns off the recording equipment for the night. He leans his head back against the cushion and sighs, heels of his palms rubbing his eyes. 

“If I have to play that game again I might just _scream_ ,” Arin says, laughing weakly. 

“I think we’re scheduled to record it again next week,” Brian points out. 

Arin lets out a groan and pulls his hands away, he lets his body fall sideways and his forehead seeks out Brian’s shoulder, nuzzling his face into Brian’s t-shirt. “No,” Arin whines, “I’ll do anything but play this game again.” 

Brian ruffles a hand through Arin’s hair, making it even messier where it’s already slipping out of his ponytail. Not for the first time he feels a swell of affection in his chest for Arin, his boss and now co-host. Brian had been worried at first about taking over Dan’s position, a place he never felt was meant for him, and there had been a backlash regarding the decision. His first few episodes had been disliked into oblivion, but now it was leveling out. He and Arin already had a good chemistry, and working together more only served to make it grow. 

Arin tips his head up, and their faces are close. Arin’s eyes are big and brown and seem so capable of drawing Brian in. For a second they are quiet and the room is still. There has always been a lack of boundaries around the office, such a non-idea of personal space that Brian was used to fucking around and being overly affectionate with Arin or any of the other Grumps. But lately he’s noticed that affection growing between he and Arin, that line of joking and personal space even blurrier than it had ever been before. 

“I think…I get it now,” Brian breathes, breaking the spell between himself and Arin. 

Arin blinks and draws back from Brian, his mouth a firm line. “What?” 

“When I was in London I used to wonder how it was that you and Dan became so close, so fast. I know he said you two had chemistry, and it’s true, you did…you _do_ , it’s just I didn’t understand how it could feel like he suddenly _loved_ you so much.” 

Arin is quiet, but his eyes grow heavy, and Brian can’t help but wonder if it was a mistake bringing Dan up. He feels it too, still, he feels Dan’s absence in every breath he takes in the office, in each laugh where his is missing, in the quiet, no music, no dumb emails bouncing ideas off one another. Brian knows Arin misses Dan too maybe for some of the same reasons, maybe for reasons too different for Brian to understand. 

“Like I said, I think I get it now.” 

“What makes you ‘get it’?” Arin asks, his voice is careful and he leans away from Brian a little, face turned sideways to stare at Brian, eyes flickering over him. They are close enough still that Brian can feel the warmth of Arin’s body next to him, if he reached over slightly he could brush his fingers against Arin’s. 

“I think it’s the show,” Brian’s eyes flick around the room, “Being in here with you, recording, it’s almost like a whole other planet inhabited by just the two of you.” 

Arin laughs but it’s warm and fond and makes Brian smile in return. “But you record with other people.” 

“Yeah, but that’s a couple hours at most. These are longer sessions and it’s just you and I, and maybe it’s the title or…how much you’ve been helping me, but I feel closer to you lately, much closer than we were before.” 

Arin smiles again, but it’s different, not quite the same as Brian is used to. It feels new and it makes little strings of excitement weave together in Brian’s stomach. Brian still considered Dan a best friend, even though the texts between them had been few and far in-between. Brian wonders if it’s just that Dan feels bad, feels guilty for going, or if Dan’s having such a good time in New York he doesn’t have time to text Brian, to be reminded of his old life. And for as much as Brian counts Dan as a brother-in-arms, even now, Arin has zoomed to the forefront of his life, has wormed into Brian’s everyday thoughts in a way that is new and exciting for him. Dan feels like a wound that Brian is carrying, that is embedded in his skin. Arin feels like a salve, a medicine meant to soothe the pain, not erase it, but help it dissolve over time. 

Arin’s hand inches across the couch cushion and he places his palm over the back of Brian’s hand, Arin’s skin rough and so intensely warm. The act isn’t particularly telling or very intimate but Brian feels good in that moment, in that quiet he doesn’t mind sharing with Arin. Being in here, understanding Arin more, understanding the feeling Dan once had, it helps Brian to see things differently, one eye fixed on the past and one on the future, and he thinks maybe he gets a lot of things that had once been cloudy to him. Arin himself once being a friend-of-a-friend was now so much more, so clear to Brian. He only wanted that feeling and bond to grow. Not to replace Dan, but to open something new, explore his own ventures now that Dan had left to do the same. Dan left for his dream. Brian is just ready to find his own. 

\--

When Dan was on Game Grumps, time always felt like it expanded forever and also happened in the blink of an eye. He often told Arin how he felt like he had always been on Game Grumps, could scarcely remember a time when he wasn’t, but he knew there were so many years he hadn’t been there compared to the three that he had. Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting of time once he left the show—maybe to slow down? Maybe to make more sense? You can’t make time do those things, Dan knows it. 

It isn’t so surprising then that one day he wakes up in his clean and sparsely decorated New York apartment- he keeps meaning to hang his crap up he just hasn’t gotten to it, the boxes tucked into his bedroom closet and spilling out into the living room- and suddenly realizes it’s been two fucking _years_ since he left California. It makes sense logistically. It took half a year to make the new Skyhill album. Dan wrote the lyrics, Peter did the music, and they worked fairly well together, not with as much ease as he and Brian had, but it was good, not bad, not like the early days of The Northern Hues when Dan felt like he had to fight to even be heard. 

Their comeback album was called _Blue_ , and to Dan’s surprise the album was a hit, skyrocketing through the charts in a way he had only ever dreamed of before. Dan had been nervous about the album coming out, he can still remember the way his stomach had clenched the night before it was released. He was always nervous with NSP albums too, underestimating how much people would care, but comedy was easier for him. Putting out serious music, his real heart and soul, his thoughts and experiences condensed down into three minute tracks, it was terrifying. The other thing had been the fans, the Grump fans, the NSP fans—would they turn on Dan because so many of them had felt like Dan had done the same to them? 

In the end, they hadn’t, or, at least an overwhelming amount of them hadn’t walked away and the album was very successful. That success carried on, moving through Dan and Peter like a tidal wave, dragging him out to the middle of the sea, no time to stop or look around, just one second Dan is on land and the next he’s tossed into the middle of the deep, dark depths. They went on tour shortly after _Blue_ came out, venues selling out in seconds. The day they sold out every date of their tour was when Peter had grabbed Dan by the shoulders and shook him, deliriously happy. Dan was too, he was stunned, but he was happy. 

The rest of the two years since Dan left Game Grumps had been spent in the tight space of a tour bus. Skyhill toured across the country, going places Dan had never been before. That first show on that first night of tour, Dan had been more rattled than he’d ever felt in his entire life, more nervous, and he realized then how much he depended on Brian to settle his nerves. The fact that he and Brian were in it together, the thick of it, that they had worked so hard for their shows, calmed Dan down in a way that Peter couldn’t. 

That first night Dan walked out on a darkened stage, the house lights flaring up around him, screams assaulting him at every angle and a sea of people that Dan could hardly make out. His voice only shook for a moment as he had grabbed the mic and said, “We’re Skyhill and thank you for being here tonight!” 

As time went on Dan got better at performing on stage. He always considered himself a showman in a lot of aspects. When he was Danny Sexbang it was easier, he could sink into the persona and feel like someone else. With Skyhill there was no one else to be. He was on stage, singing personal songs, he was Dan Avidan and no one else. 

Dan had always dreamt of a rock star lifestyle, and now he had it. Skyhill had huge, budgeted music videos that nabbed them MTV awards, they performed on talk shows and to supersized crowds, Dan met beautiful girls that were falling all over themselves to get a piece of him, but for as much as Dan had wanted it all—was enjoying it all—he liked his quiet and his routines, his personal space, and the rock star life didn’t afford him much privacy. Suddenly he was thrown into a scope he wasn’t used to. Even the most passionate Grump fans paled in comparison to how the paparazzi stalked him, taking pictures of him as he tried to go to dinner, as he met with friends, yelling at him, wanting answers, a good picture, to know who he was dating. Dan went to so many places but he didn’t get to _see_ them. He’d arrive in the city of the show and then be condemned to sit in his hotel room until the night’s show, after the show it was back to the bus to hit the next town. Dan longed to explore the unseen, but he had no time, no privacy to do so. 

Over those two years he tried to keep in contact with the Grumps, with Brian and Arin, and everyone else. A year ago he had caved and put his house in California on the market. It was doing him no good as he hadn’t made it back to the state once since he left it two years ago. He was supposed to, had made plans, had tried so damn hard that first year to make it back to Los Angelo’s for Yum Kippur, the annual get-together held at Barry’s parent’s house. He had bought plane tickets, he was happy and excited to get back, to see everyone again after four months away. Dan tried so hard to get back, he had wanted it so much, but in the end his flight had gotten delayed and then canceled by the shit weather in New York, and Dan’s schedule closed around him like a shell, locking him in. 

He still watched the videos sometimes, tucked into the coffin-like bed of the tour bus and putting on one of the new episodes. Arin and Brian were playing some horror game as of late—unlike Dan, Brian wasn’t a chicken shit. Arin had texted Dan shortly after Brian took over the spot. A simple _I offered him the job, Dan._

Did it surprise Dan? A little. Brian was hilarious, he knew it and he knew Arin knew it, but it had been the speed with which it had all happened. Years ago Arin had said when he met Dan, he knew if something happened to Jon that he wanted Dan to fill in that spot. With how Arin talked about their shared chemistry, how it was unlike anything else they ever felt with another person, how was it so easy for Arin to replace Dan that fast? Maybe Arin knew, like he had with Dan, maybe he had Brian waiting in the wings, tucked like an ace up his sleeve. 

Sometimes, on nights when Dan can’t sleep he’ll load up an old episode that he and Arin recorded, and he listen to the ease with which they once talked, he’ll listen to their laughs flowing open and free through his headphones, and he’ll smile, but something clenches tight at his heart. It isn’t that he expected Game Grumps to stop without him, but he didn’t realize how much he’d miss it all. Dan took NSP and Starbomb with him, but four months ago Arin and Brian finally put out the rap album they had always talked about. Dan bought it, a physical and digital copy, and listened to it endlessly, hearing the melodies and beats that Brian put together, Arin’s voice lightning fast. He laid there awake, staring the ceiling of his hotel, missing what he had voluntarily given up. 

Dan’s phone chimes, his digital calendar reminding him he’s due at the studio downtown in an hour. Dan sighs and sets his phone on the low coffee table in his living room before he heads into his bedroom to get dressed. He had written a few tracks for the next Skyhill album and he was going to the studio to lay them down, test them out in a way. 

Fifteen minutes later Dan’s phone is ringing again. The car the label sent for him is waiting downstairs. Dan always thought he wanted to be a living legend type of rock star but now that he has it, he hadn’t realized it meant he was practically incapable of ever being anywhere by himself. He didn’t drive himself—fuck, he didn’t even own a car here in New York, his old one still in California, driven to a storage to be held until Dan’s return—he couldn’t go out to grab a bite to eat, he couldn’t go places without being recognized, being fawned over, and it really isn’t too much different than when he was in the Grumps. These fans are just a bit more rabid. 

Dan rides to the studio tucked into the back of the car, head pillowed against black leather seats. His phone is in his hand and he finds himself opening his text messages, thumbing over Brian’s name. He doesn’t stop himself as he taps out _I miss you._

“Mr. Avidan?” The driver says. 

Dan looks up from his phone, his thumb hovering over the send button. “Yeah?” 

“We’re here, sir.” 

Dan glances out the window, and sure enough they are parked at the back entrance of the recording studio. “Oh,” Dan says. “Thanks.” He opens the door and deletes the unsent text, tucking his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket.

\--

“I’m lost in the dark, oh, won’t you be my—” Dan sighs, looking at the technician behind the glass of the recording booth. The music surrounding him cuts off and Dan can hear the crackle of the speaker turning on behind him. 

“Everything okay, Danny?” 

“Yeah, I just, I didn’t like how I sounded on that take. I’d like to do it again.” 

The technician nods, cues up the music to the chorus of the song. Dan’s been trying to get this one song recorded for nearly twenty minutes. He’s not sure why but take after take sounds off to him, not right, not _good_ enough. Dan’s getting frustrated and he can see the engineer losing his patience at having to run the same clip of audio over and over again. 

The music starts and Dan taps along to the beat, breathes in, exhales, opens his mouth, “I’m lost in—Fuck!” Dan says as his voice cracks, an ugly sound that makes him wince. Dan’s hand curls into a loose fist. Why is he fucking up so much today? He sees movement beyond the glass and he looks up to see Pete walking into the room, pressing down the button to speak to Dan. 

“Come take five with me, man.” 

Dan nods, biting his lip as he slides his headphones off, setting them in their cradle before he slips out the recording booth door. Peter meets him halfway, back in the lounge area of the studio and he rests his hand on Dan’s arm, nodding towards the hallway. 

“Come on.” 

Dan follows Peter into the small hallway outside the lounge. They stand facing each other and Dan feels embarrassed, out of his control and his element. 

“I thought you looked like you could use a minute,” Pete says, smiling small but worried at Dan. 

Dan nods, brushes a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Yeah, I just…It must be an off day.” 

“We all have ‘em,” Peter says, “But I wouldn’t be your friend if I wasn’t honest with you.” 

“What do you mean?” Dan asks, nerves clawing at his belly. Conversations that start this way never tend to end well, at least not for Dan. 

“I mean, I feel like you’ve been having a hard time lately.” 

Dan’s eyes fall closed. He hates that Peter knows, that he can tell that Dan’s not been himself as of late. Dan takes his work seriously and nothing fucks with his mental state more than failing at his job, his true passion in life. He had everything he ever wanted so why did he feel unhappy? Why wasn’t he satisfied? 

“A little, yeah,” Dan confirms. 

“Overworking yourself?” Peter asks. 

Dan shrugs weakly. Maybe he was, but that didn’t feel like this. The hardest Dan ever worked was the December they were recording for Starbomb and he was doing the show and Guild Grumps and barely slept, and honestly felt like he was going to die until Brian had grabbed his shoulders and told him, “You need to _stop_.” 

That didn’t feel like this, and Peter wasn’t Brian, but Peter could still tell that Dan wasn’t okay.

“It sort of feels like I’m homesick.” 

“Homesick? For what? California?” 

“Yeah, just…I haven’t been back since I left. I miss… I miss my friends.” 

Peter nods, “That’s understandable. I know the label is being a pain about the new album but maybe we can talk to them? Slide a vacation in there?” 

The thought is good, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Dan feels so far away from himself, from who he was. He’s thirty-nine years old, knocking on forty’s door and he feels more isolated than he ever has before. Music makes him happy, but he’s not happy right now. When he thinks of the last time he was happy, really happy, it was with NSP, with the Grumps, in sunny California. A vacation _might_ work temporarily, might make Dan feel better, it could. He could try it. Or… 

“Peter, I…I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.” 

The words leave Dan before he even realizes that he’s said it. He looks up and meets Peter’s gaze. It’s a reverse to their situation so many years ago. When Dan was desperate to hold on, to make Skyhill work, and Peter wanted to let go. Dan remembers how he felt, how it was like he had gotten punched directly in the stomach, pummeled until he didn’t think he could stand any longer. 

“You want to…end Skyhill?” 

“I just…” Dan’s eyes close. He’s tired, drained so suddenly that he feels like he can’t summon the strength to give Peter an answer, the answer he definitely deserves, “I just want to go home.” 

There is a silence, dragging on far too long for Dan to be comfortable. The truth is out there. Dan wants to go home and home doesn’t mean his overpriced apartment in downtown New York. Home is California. Dan can’t open his eyes because he hates disappointing people, hates upsetting them, and he doesn’t want to see that anger, that disappointment in Peter’s eyes. 

“Dan,” Peter says, soft and careful and Dan forces his eyes open because the tone is so vastly different than what he was expecting. Peter looks calm, if not a little sad. He smiles tight, filled with something Dan thinks is a mix of sorrow and pity. “It’s okay.” 

“You’re not pissed?” Dan asks. 

Peter shrugs, leans against the wall behind him, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. 

“I mean, I’m not happy, but I understand. How can I be mad at you when I did the same thing to you almost twenty years ago?” 

Dan nods, amazed again by time and the small circles it seems to make around people. How you can feel so far away from the past but all it takes is a spin around the loop to make it back to you. Dan twenty years ago would kill for this life, but for Dan now, the Dan that is older, wiser, that’s grown as a human, this life is good but it isn’t enough. He’s learned what really matters and it isn’t money, or success—it’s the people around you. It’s your family. Dan lost his family out there and now all he wants is to get them back. 

“I’m sorry, Peter.” Because he is. Dan knows he’s walking away from something huge, that he’s ending this not only for himself but for Peter too. 

Again, Peter smiles. “I’ve had incredible experiences and I’ve learned a lot. I’ll be okay, Dan. No hard feelings, man. The last few years have felt like such a whirlwind, it’ll be nice to take a minute to breathe.” 

Dan nods, feeling that same sensation in his chest. Everything spinning out faster than you can capture it. 

“Besides, if the Grump fans hadn’t loved Skyhill so much we never would have reconnected. How can I fault you for going back to what made this possible?” 

“How mad do you think the big wigs are going to be?” Dan asks, feeling queasy. He knows he’s breaking some contract with the label, stepping out of the spinning hamster wheel of their plans and intentions for him, and Dan is familiar enough with the beast now having tangled with it, to know that he isn’t irreplaceable, to know the label will have someone primed to slide into the empty space he’s leaving behind, someone to run for them, to keep the wheel turning. Dan just hopes that new person loves it more than he had. 

“Who cares?” Peter says with more confidence than Dan expected, “It’s our lives, not theirs.” 

Dan leans forward and with his gangly long arms he grabs at Peter’s sleeves and he tugs the other man in for a hug. Dan squeezes at him, maybe a ‘thank you,’ or an ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘goodbye,’ but he appreciates this and he wants Peter to know that. 

Twenty minutes later Dan is in the back of an Uber being driven to his apartment. The company car is no longer of use to him. His phone is bleeping and blooping, chiming, signaling to Dan how many people are trying to stop him, trying to change his mind. He won’t. Nerves in his stomach he picks up his phone and manages to hit Brian’s number. 

It rings, rings, rings until a voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Brian. Leave me a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.” 

Dan sighs and hangs up, not wanting to drop that kind of bomb over a voicemail. He tabs to the next name, the other person spinning circles in his head at a constant basis, whose laugh echoes through Dan like a siren song. 

The phone rings four times and Dan thinks he’s going to be regulated to the voicemail like he had been with Brian, but to his surprise the line clicks and then a voice picks up. 

“Dan?” 

Dan smiles, the words momentarily lost in his brain because he hadn’t been expecting an answer. Now he’s actually gotta have something to say, some way to have this conversation. 

“Arin,” Dan says, voice light. Dan embarrassingly feels like he’s going to cry. 

“Long time no talk, man. Are you okay?” Arin asks, and though his voice isn’t as warm as it once was, isn’t as loving, there is a layer of concern and it is that layer that Dan sinks into, is determined to wrap himself in. 

“I’m fine. I…Arin, I’m coming _home_.” 

\--

“What’s up, Arin?” Brian asks, sipping as his sparkling water before he smacks his lips and bends forward to set it on the coffee table in front of them. The two of them are at Arin’s place. Brian having stopped by at Arin’s request. Arin runs a hand through his hair. It’s still long, above his shoulders because anything more than that requires too much maintenance. He’s not sure why he’s nervous, why his stomach is tight. The reason he asked Brian to come over isn’t a bad one, far from it, but it still sets Arin on edge. Still makes him wish he could be doing anything else but this. 

Brian picks up on Arin’s nerves, he must, because Arin can see his eyes flicker over Arin, can see the way his mouth pulls into a frown. Sometimes it makes Arin marvel how much Brian knows him, can sense him and see right through him. They’ve grown tight over these last two years together and Arin would count Brian as his best friend, though somedays it all feels more than that, the intense bond between them feeling new but familiar, reminding Arin of…well, _Dan_ , and that scares him because for as close as he thought he and Dan had been, Dan still left, still fell out of his life. Arin is hesitant to make the same mistake twice, or to even let a thread of that mistake begin in the first place. 

“What’s the matter?” Brian asks. 

“Nothing,” Arin says. 

“Bullshit, you look like a deer about to get mowed down by a semi-truck, Arin.” 

Arin laughs but Brian’s mouth stays a firm line. Goddamn he was stubborn and had just the right way to always get what he wanted. That thought always made Arin nervous too. Brian shifts in his seat so he can turn more towards Arin, so they are tilted toward each other like magnets that can’t help but to be drawn closer and closer. 

“Arin, really, you’re kind of freaking me out.” 

Guilt pangs through Arin. He doesn’t want to scare Brian, far from it. Two years ago, he was handling Brian Wecht with kid gloves, like Brian was something small and delicate that could break easily if touched too roughly. Brian wasn’t that anymore. He wasn’t quite the person he was before Dan left, but he was mostly similar, some near perfect replica that had such minute differences that only an expert on him would be able to see them, to pin-point what had changed. 

The point was, Brian was stronger now, and the very last thing Arin wanted was to deliver the news that might make those tiny cracks grow huge with pressure, spider-web across Brian’s skin. He doesn’t want any part in breaking Brian again. But he’s involved because Dan called him, because Brian won’t answer the phone when Dan calls. 

“I’m sorry,” Arin says, “it’s, well, it’s supposed to be good news.”

“Then why do you look like you’re going to puke, dude?” 

“Because I don’t know if it’s good news for you.” 

Brian sighs, sounding frustrated and Arin feels that fear prickling in his stomach, inching up his throat. He swallows and reaches for his own bottle of water sat near Brian’s, sweating a water ring into the surface of the coffee table because Arin forgot to grab a coaster. He swallows a bit of his drink as Brian talks. 

“Just fucking tell me, whatever it is. I don’t like this in-between space we’re in.” 

Arin nods, and his eyes flicker closed as he brings the words to his lips, still damp from water, the idea still boggling in Arin’s brain. He’s not used to it, to the fact that it’s true, it’s real. 

“Brian, Dan is coming back to California.” 

Brian goes stock-still on the couch. Arin waits. He waits to see where the pieces are going to land, what Brian’s reaction will be. He waits for the breath he’s holding to come rushing out of him. 

“What?” Brian asks, his voice so small, so soft and timid that it doesn’t sound like Brian at all. 

Arin nods, “He called me last night. He didn’t sound like himself, he didn’t sound good, but he called me and told me he’s coming home.” 

Arin would be lying if he said he hadn’t been worrying about Dan all this time, that the older man didn’t linger in his thoughts when Arin woke up, when he puttered around the office, when he remembered something stupid that he and Dan had once done. Dan was a constant in his thoughts even after all this time, even when they barely spoke, he resided in Arin’s chest like a vital piece of him, an organ, something Arin would cease to be without. He wonders if it’s like that for Brian. Despite how close they had become, how they tried to fill the space left when Dan took off, were they both carrying Dan around with them all this time?

“He is?” Brian asks. 

“He said he called you before me and that you didn’t answer.” 

Brian’s face falters, eyes slipping to his hands that are curled over his knees. 

“I wasn’t ready to talk to him. I didn’t know he was trying to tell me this.” Brian looks up to Arin’s face. “What about Skyhill?” 

“I’m not sure. I didn’t get to talk to Dan long, his phone was going nuts.” Arin could barely hear Dan’s words through the consistent beeps and boops of incoming messages and if Dan did what Arin thinks he did, well, it’s no wonder everyone was trying to stop him. Arin doesn’t know if the band is done, if Dan is walking away from his dream to come back to them. It seems preposterous. He doesn’t want to put stock in it until Dan is really here, then he’ll believe it. 

“Are…” Brian begins, his voice still frighteningly small and tight. “What, um, happens with the show, I mean…is Dan going to—”

“Brian,” Arin starts, “Brian, I’m not going to boot you off the show.” 

Brian nods, but his eyes are heavy and he won’t look at Arin. 

“I’m serious.” 

Now Brian looks up. His mouth is a grim line and he nods again. “Okay, Arin.” 

Arin hears the words, but he doesn’t believe it’s okay. He doesn’t think Brian believes in him. 

Arin wants Dan to come home, he does, but he’s scared. When Dan left, it threw them all off-kilter, de-centered their world, and now after two years Arin has managed to make it stable again. Now he’s scared of the chaos, the impending upheaval of what they’ve known. 

It will make sense when Dan gets here. They’ll have an explanation; they’ll have the boundaries that they drew compared to what Dan brings with him. That’s when Arin will have a plan, that’s when he’ll know what to do. He hopes so. God, does he hope so. 

\--

Dan’s plane touches down in California at ten in the morning. He can hardly believe it was two years ago he walked into this airport and changed his life, left and hadn’t breathed a drop of California air since then. It’s Barry that’s waiting for him near baggage, two coffees in hand, and a smile aimed right at Dan. 

“Raspberry!” Dan says, falling back into his old nickname for the other man, no matter how out of sorts it seems, how much time has passed, and how maybe he’s not actually allowed to call Barry that anymore. 

Barry smiles though and he lets Dan carefully envelope him in a hug, making sure not to jostle the coffees in his hands too much. 

“Hey, Dan. Good to have you back, man.” 

Dan pulls back from the familiar smell of Barry, of their old apartment and he’s already grinning. He takes one of the coffees when Barry offers it to him. 

“I know tea is your thing, but I figured after the flight you could use the caffeine.” 

“No, coffee is great. Thanks, B.” 

Barry smiles and he looks mostly the same as he did when Dan had left, maybe a touch harrier than he used to be. Dan grabs his suitcase. He brought only clothes and necessities, everything else in his apartment in New York is in the process of being boxed up by the movers Dan hired, his possessions to be shipped to him once he’s got a place in California again, which is a huge hassle that Dan isn’t ready to deal with yet. 

He and Barry leave the double doors of the airport and are instantly mobbed by a crowd of paparazzi all screaming Dan’s name. Barry is thrown off guard and Dan sighs in annoyance. 

“Is it true you left Skyhill because of drug abuse?” one of them men screams at him, lights flashing in his face. 

Dan keeps his head down and breathes through the chaos. Barry mumbling swears as he nearly trips over a photographer. They make it to Barry’s car and Dan throws his stuff in the back, the paparazzi snapping photos right up until Barry is exiting the packed parking lot. 

“So…that was intense,” Barry says, glancing at Dan from across the seat. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m not sure how they knew I was coming to California. Maybe the label told them…they’re kinda pissed at me right now. I’m not exactly their favorite person.” 

Barry offers him a smile. “I don’t know how you deal with that, man.” 

Dan shrugs, he doesn’t, not really. He hates being that focused on, the attention sticking to him like needles piercing his skin. 

“Hopefully it’ll fade with time. Maybe I’ll just hide in a hotel somewhere until it all dies down.” 

“You’re going to stay in a hotel?” Barry asks in surprise. 

“Do you have a better idea?” 

Barry taps the steering wheel in thought. Dan knows the apartment they once shared belongs to Barry and his girlfriend.

“You could always ask Ar—”

“I think…that would be a bad idea,” Dan says. “Too much, too fast, you know?” 

He thinks he lost that right to stay there at Arin and Suzy’s now, same for Brian’s place. He can’t expect them to let him in when he had left, when it was his choice. 

Barry nods, “Ross and Holly have a spare room?” 

“I think the hotel will be okay. I don’t want to put anyone out.” 

“Dan,” Barry says, glancing ahead at the red light in front of them and then at Dan, “you’re not a burden. You’re our friend, you’re still family. Sometimes families are far apart, but the bond stays, you know? You’re a part of us still, Dan.” 

Dan smiles sadly at his lap, playing with the sunglasses in-between his fingers. He’d like to think that was the case, but he hasn’t seen them in so long, hasn’t talked to any of them besides a few off-hand texts or congratulatory emails. He misses them all so much it makes his chest ache. Even now in the car with Barry, his words mean a lot. 

“Worst comes to worst, you come back to the apartment. Your old bedroom is used for storage now, but we can fit a bed in there.” 

Dan nods and he slumps back against the car seat. He’s tired from his flight, from the experiences of the last few days. He’s nervous. He talked to Arin a total of three minutes before he had to hang up, and since then it’s been chaos until just now. He doesn’t know where he stands with any of them, hell, he’s thankful Barry was nice enough to pick him up. 

None of them had expressed ill-will toward him, had said they disliked him, but Dan knows things have changed and that he can’t waltz back into everyone’s lives expecting it to be just like it was before he left. 

The hotel chain Dan favors when he travels is off to the left, but Barry gets into the right lane, flicks on his blinker. Dan glances down familiar streets where things look different but overall still the same, enough that Dan can see where he is. Barry is heading in the direction of the apartment that he used to share with Dan. He doesn’t say anything and he smiles when Dan glances at him, offering no explanation and hearing no argument. Barry is taking him home. 

\--

Brian sits on the edge of his bed, stomach aching. It’s likely because he hasn’t eaten in a handful of hours, has only drank the water offered to him at Arin’s place. His stomach clenches again.

Arin. Their conversation. Fucking… _Dan_. Dan is coming back. Is coming home. It’s too much to really believe, and Brian feels sick and scared and he wants to hide until this is all over. 

He leans down and picks up the beer bottle next to his foot, pulling a deep swig from it. Brian sighs and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. His phone is somewhere in the kitchen, far from Brian because Brian is scared of it, doesn’t want the heady responsibility of waiting for Dan to call or text, to even talk to Dan. Their contact has been minimal these last two years. Brian texted Dan a short ‘congratulations’ when Skyhill’s album hit number one on the charts, and he had replied to text Dan sent about how well the rap albums he did with Arin had done. It hasn’t been much beyond that. Brian doesn’t know of Dan’s life beyond what he saw online, what he caught in glimpses on the TV, but he knows that Dan hates that facet of attention and strived for some sense of privacy. When he saw Dan on the TV, flagged by paparazzi, by fans, he couldn’t help the bitter mix of sympathy and pleasure that seized him. Bitter because Dan didn’t deserve that, the thread of pleasure because Dan left him behind for that kind of life. 

Ultimately, he misses Dan and he wants to see Dan, but he doesn’t know what happens once they are face-to-face. Is he supposed to forget how hard this all was? How fucked up he got by it? Is it supposed to be okay that Brian took over for Dan? That was another thing. No matter how much Arin said it, no matter how sincerely he promised, Brian can’t help but think that Dan will get his spot back, will become Not-SoGrump again. He can’t shake the fear that his bond with Arin will fade and Dan will sweep back in like he had never left at all, their connection greater than the time he was gone. Then what? Then Brian is on the outside looking in all over again. Only this time he’ll know what it’s like to be left behind by the both of them. 

 

Brian drains the rest of his beer in one huge swallow before he sets the bottle on the floor near the foot of his bed and pads into the kitchen to grab another. 

\--

“Brian left?” Suzy asks, drawing Arin’s attention away from where he had been zoning out as he stared at the wall. He looks at his wife and nods. 

“Um, yeah. He had to head out.” 

Suzy walks gently across the room and sits next to Arin, her small body curling in at his side, her legs folding under her body. Her delicate hand finds his knee and rests there. 

“You told him?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How was that?” she questions, voice careful, knowing already how much Arin hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell Brian. 

Arin shrugs, leaning his head back. “He seemed upset.” 

“You don’t think he wants to see Dan?” 

“Suzy, I’m not sure _I_ want to see Dan.” 

He looks at her when she remains quiet and he sees her studying him, eyes flickering over his face. 

“Look, when it first happened all I wanted was for Dan to change his mind, for Dan to come home…” 

“And now?” Suzy presses, knowing just how to urge Arin into action. Her hand is warm on his knee, solid, and Arin focuses on the feeling as he tells her all the things he doesn’t feel he can tell anyone else, not even Brian. 

“Now, I’m kind of afraid to see him. What if he’s different? What if I’m different? What if we’re not the same?” 

“You are different,” Suzy says, “and he is too. We all are. People shift and change all the time, Arin. The Danny that left isn’t the same one coming back, but it’s still Dan at heart.” 

Arin frowns, drops his head back against the couch and lets his eyes slip closed. Dan was his best friend, a huge part of him, like someone had taken a piece of Arin and made it human, made it real. Then he had lost it, had it taken from him, and Arin learned how to live without that piece, how to survive despite it. But now it was coming back, and now Arin has to reevaluate his idea of what being whole really means. He’s gotta find that empty spot inside that Dan made when he left, hope the piece fits back where it belongs. 

Suzy’s head finds his shoulder and he can smell her perfume, earthy, wood, spice. The smell comforts him like nothing else. 

“Arin,” Suzy says softly, “you have to forgive him.” 

Arin makes a small noise. “What?” 

Suzy’s hand finds Arin’s, lacing their fingers together. 

“You have to forgive Dan for leaving.” 

He thought he had, he thought it didn’t matter to him at all. 

“Remember,” Suzy continues, her voice on edge, “remember when you left all those years ago and—”

“Suzy…” 

“Just listen to me. You left because you needed to see what else was out there, remember? You were happy with me but you were curious, felt like you couldn’t be truly happy unless you knew what else there was beyond what you knew. I was mad, I felt like I could never recover or forgive you, but I did and you came home and here we are, Arin. That’s Dan. He needed to be curious, to see what else was there.” 

Arin hates remembering that time, how he almost threw away the one person that understood him more than anyone else. His frown deepens even if the situations really are comparable, even if it does make sense. 

“I wrote you love letters for a year. What did Dan do besides call me for three minutes and tell me he’s coming home?” 

Suzy is quiet, and when Arin looks at her she’s smiling, squeezing his hand. 

“He came home.” 

Arin opens his mouth, but Suzy’s smile widens, soft and maybe a twinge of sad, and Arin feels bad because he knows he wasn’t the only person that has missed Dan all this time. 

“He’s at Barry’s right now.” 

Arin’s heart jumps in his throat. Dan is here, is in California, only twenty minutes away from Arin. It seemed crazy, unreal, and knowing that he went through with it, that he’s here, makes something soften inside of Arin. Some gate opens inside of him that wants to see Dan, that longs for face-to-face contact, as much as it terrifies him. 

“I’m…I’m not ready,” Arin says and he meets Suzy’s make-up-lined eyes. 

She nods. “No one’s pushing you. I know you’ll do it on your time.”

It’s comforting to hear her words, like somehow Suzy can see the future and she knows it will all work out. That might not be the case, but Arin sinks into the idea that she might know better than he does. 

\--

Dan spends the night at Barry’s house. He spends hours catching up with Barry, laughing together on the couch, watching Barry play whatever game is new and popular. It feels like when they lived together, and Dan thinks maybe it isn’t so hard to come back, maybe he can do it. He certainly bridged the gap between he and Barry. 

Late into the night Barry had leaned back against the couch and blinked at Dan with sleepy eyes and a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re back, Dan,” Barry had said. “I missed you.” 

Dan felt that tug at his heart, and nothing could stop him from leaning over the space between them and hugging Barry tight. Barry laughing as he patted softly at Dan’s back. 

That night Dan sleeps on a mattress on the floor of his old bedroom in the apartment. It’s strange being somewhere that once belonged to him but now felt foreign, old and new colliding in his mind. He wakes up too early with a sore back and a slight headache, but he can hear the hiss of a tea kettle, and that helps a little. 

When he pads out into the kitchen Barry is at the dining room table, a cup of coffee in his hands and the kettle of tea cooling on the stove. 

“You got lucky, Mer drinks the same brand of tea you do,” Barry says with a smile as he nods to the cup next to him at an empty spot at the table. 

“Thanks, Bear,” Dan says, yawning and dropping into the seat. The drink is too hot to consume at the moment so Dan takes pleasure in the idle motions of blowing across the surface to cool it. Silence building around them like a comfortable shell. 

“So, I talked to Suzy,” Barry says. 

“You did?” Dan wants to see her, too, all of them, but nerves prickle at his stomach. Suzy means Arin, and though Dan wants to see Arin so fucking badly, he’s terrified at the same time. 

Barry nods. “Yesterday, a little this morning. She told Arin you were here.” 

“Oh,” Dan says, heart speeding in his chest. “What did he…um…how did he take it?” 

“Well, they’re eating breakfast right now, but…he wants to see you.” 

“He does?” Dan asks, trying to sound neutral. Inside his heart is faster than ever before. 

Barry nods, and he smiles, though it’s cautious. 

“It might be weird at first—”

“Everything is weird at this point. It’s like California was my home, you know? I felt at home here, but then I left, and New York was nice, but it never felt like home. Now I’m back, but it’s like everything shifted around me. It’s like I don’t have a home.” 

Barry opens his mouth to speak, looks like he’s going to give Dan his spiel about how he’ll always have a home here, but Dan raises a hand, smiles crookedly. 

“I just want to see him, like maybe if it’s okay with Arin, it’ll be okay with everyone.” 

Arin was the big piece, the default leader, his opinion swaying the others. If Arin could forgive Dan then Brian could, then everyone could. 

“Have you, um, have you heard from Brian?” Dan says, his name like a weight in Dan’s mouth. He had texted Brian when he arrived to Barry’s place, told him he’d like to talk if they could, but he got no response. Brian hadn’t even opened the message. 

Barry shakes his head. “Not in a couple of days. Not since before you came home.” 

Dan tests his tea, sipping at it and promptly burning his lip, like some sense of karma rubbing in how bad he fucked up with Brian when he left. 

“He won’t, ah, he won’t talk to me?” 

“Look, it’s not really my business,” Barry starts, “but it was hard on Brian.”

Dan nods, eyes falling to the table, to the deep dark brown of the tea. He knows. He knew all along. The moment he left Brian’s apartment for the airport, he knew that he wasn’t leaving on the best terms with the other man. 

“All you can hope is that he’ll come around,” Barry says.

“Is he still as stubborn as he was two years ago?” Dan tries. 

Barry laughs and Dan manages to crack a smile. “Yeah, he is.” 

Dan sighs into his cup as he blows ripples across the surface of the drink. 

“Then I might be waiting a lot longer than I thought.” 

\--

Dan tries to go about his day, showering, digging suitable clothes out of his worn suitcase. He’d be lying if he tried to say he didn’t feel nervous about the impending reunion with Arin. He wanted it to go well, he wanted to sink back into his old life. He wanted to feel like he belonged once again. He eats lunch at Barry’s place, the other man having gone to the office—another place that no longer felt like home.

Dan is on the couch, surfing through Netflix, waffling between shows he always meant to watch and shows he’s three seasons behind on, when there’s a knock on the door. Dan freezes and he sets the remote down next to him. 

With his heart hummingbird-fast in his chest, Dan pads to the door. His hand is on the knob and he sucks in a sharp breath, suddenly dizzy, suddenly more terrified than hopeful. He knows who’s on the other side and Goddamn, the least he could have done would have been to text Dan a head’s up that he was on his way. 

Dan is taking so long to answer that the knock comes again and Dan gives himself just a few odd seconds to try and regain some composure before he’s turning the handle and tugging the door open. There on the porch that used to be his porch is Arin. His eyes are squinted from the brightness outside and his hair is shorter than Dan remembers, but still long enough for a ponytail like it’s currently pulled up into. 

Dan is hit with a surge of memories, the first time he met Arin, the last time he saw Arin, every Grump session, every laugh, everything passing in a flurry of seconds in Dan’s brain, all of it leading up to this moment. Dan wants to hug Arin, he really does, but he doesn’t try, too scared to be rebuffed. 

“Arin,” Dan says softly, voice weak. 

“Hi, Dan,” Arin says and he sounds not normal, but not bad, the kind of neutral Dan wanted to be/ “Can I come in?” 

Dan moves aside, removing himself from the doorway. “Of course, man.” Arin slides past him and Dan closes it behind him. 

Then it’s just the two of them in the living room of Dan’s old apartment and Dan’s already ready to explode with words, with apologies and stories and questions. At the same time, he feels like a well, tapped and dried up with nothing to offer the man in front of him. 

Arin looks good, now in his thirties, but he’s still soft and strong, slimmer than Dan remembers, eyes maybe a tad more tired than they had been two years ago, but he smiles nervously at Dan. 

“How was your flight?” Arin tries. 

Small talk. Dan can do that. 

“Fine, no complaints.” He doesn’t mention the paparazzi crowding him and Barry outside the airport. 

“You look good,” Arin says, eyeing Dan. “New York agreed with you.” 

“Not as much as you think,” Dan says with a sigh. “I, um. I feel weird, this isn’t really my place anymore, but do you want to sit down?” He motions to the couch. 

Arin nods, and the two of them take a seat, the Netflix menu timed out. The silence is thick and verging on awkward and Dan can’t stand it. Here was Arin, his best friend, well, former best friend. He wanted it back. He just wanted it all back. 

“So, what’s the deal, Dan?” Arin asks, always direct with Dan, unafraid to be that way with him. 

“What do you mean?” Dan’s heart runs fast, hurting, scared for this conversation to de-rail before it can begin. 

“Are you home for good? Temporarily? What’s going on with you, man? Are you seriously done with Skyhill?” Arin won’t look at Dan, looking at his knees, hands digging into the fabric of his sweatpants. 

Dan thinks he probably deserves the inquisition, but he won’t flinch away from Arin’s questions “I’m here, I’m back, Arin. I loved Skyhill, but I wasn’t happy, it wasn’t what I wanted anymore. The longer I was there in New York the more I wanted to be here, with you and everyone else. You guys…you’re my family.” 

Dan’s so scared, so fucking terrified that Arin will tell him he lost his spot, his chance. That he isn’t one of them anymore. Arin turns his head and looks at Dan, searches him with careful brown eyes that Dan has looked into so often in his life, he thinks he could describe them by memory at this point. 

“You needed to see what was out there? You had to take a shot, right?” Arin says. 

Dan nods, runs a hand through his hair. 

“All I ever wanted was to do music and be a big rock star, but after being there, I was so alone. I wanted it, but not like that.” 

“What do you want now?” Arin asks, braver than Dan could ever be. 

“I want to come back.” 

Arin bites his lip and now Dan braces himself for the punch, for the strike he can sense is coming. 

“Brian is Not-So Grump now. I can’t just…it isn’t fair to him if I tell him to step down. I won’t do that to him, Dan.” 

Dan nods, “I understand, I get it. I know what I gave up when I left, but I want to be a Grump again. I’ll do Steam Train, Grumpcade, a one-off, whatever you want. I just miss you guys, Arin. I miss you all so damn much.” 

Arin’s eyes are a mix of hard and soft, like there’s a huge piece of him that can’t forgive Dan, but an equally big part of him that is ready to bring him back in to the fold, that he missed Dan as much as Dan missed him. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on Dan’s part. 

“I have to talk to everyone else too. I can’t just make that decision for all of us, you get that, right?” 

“By ‘all of us,’ do you mean Brian?” 

“I _mean_ everyone,” Arin says. “That does include Brian, yeah.” 

Dan nods, something in his chest hurting, something shifting painful and unstable. He knows he won’t feel grounded, won’t feel settled until it’s all fixed. 

“I understand.” 

“I’ll be honest with you, Dan. I was scared to come and see you today, and I hate that I was scared. I hate that I don’t feel like I know how to talk to you anymore when you were one of the easiest people in my life to talk to. I was worried it wouldn’t be the same.” 

“How’s it going so far?” Dan asks, tone soft. 

“Not as bad as I imagined, but not as good as I was hoping. But I’m glad you’re here, Dan. I’m really fucking glad you’re here.” 

“You are?” Dan asks. 

“Of fucking course, man. It didn’t feel right without you here. I—”

Embarrassingly Dan doesn’t give Arin time to finish. He’s overcome by a swell of emotion, a rush of being back around Arin. He leans forward on his knees and closes the space between them, wrapping his arms around Arin’s middle and hugging him tight. Touching Arin feels like everything locks into place, like Arin is a sounding stone that echoes back to two years ago, that resonates inside of both of them. 

Arin’s hands come down and are heavy on Dan’s back, a warm weight. 

“I missed you, Dan,” Arin breathes quietly. 

Dan feels tears prick at his eyes and he squeezes them shut, pushes his face into Arin’s shoulder. 

He’s home. 

\--

Brian looks up when Arin enters the room. He smiles, glad to be at work, serving as a distraction from the thoughts of Dan that have been plaguing him. Honestly, Brian had been half-expecting to walk into the office this afternoon and see Dan loitering around, a tall and lanky familiar line, filling up the space, _his_ space. He was glad to find the office Dan Avidan-free today. Dan had been steadily texting him over the last couple of days, but Brian’s been ignoring the messages, not ready to speak to him, to even see whatever it is that Dan has to say. 

He’s happy to see Arin. Over the last two years Arin has become this big bright spot in his life, this support system, something Brian knows he can depend on, something Brian knows won’t change on him. He trusts Arin with huge parts of himself, trusts Arin’s hands to support that weight. Arin smiles back but it’s not quite the same as it usually is, something about it a little off and that sets Brian on edge. He had heard the tittering around the office, everyone talking about Dan, everyone wanting to see Dan. Brian was in the minority and he thought Arin joined him on that side, but now, he wasn’t quite so sure. 

They are scheduled to record today. Arin checks the dry-erase board tacked to the far wall in the room to double-check the game they are going to play before he kneels on the floor and starts to set up the system. 

“Are you okay?” Brian ventures. Arin is usually a lot more animated before a session, trying to get himself pumped up. 

Arin glances at Brian over his shoulder and he offers a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine. Just, feeling low energy, I guess?”

Brian nods, but he can’t help the frown that pulls at his mouth. The energy in the room is off, weird, and it makes Brian prickle. “You’re not feeling well?” 

Arin sighs and he puts down the thin cords to the console. He moves to the couch and sits down. Not right next to Brian but close, close enough that Brian can feel the heat rolling off Arin’s form, the smell of sweat and the cologne he’s been using, how there’s an odd scent mixed in, something Brian isn’t used to. 

“I wasn’t going to bring this up until after the recording session because I didn’t want the episodes to be weird, but I feel like it’s going to hang over us either way.” 

Brian tenses, nerves on edge. He’s smart, he’s always had a knack for reading people. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why Arin’s on edge, what the only difference between this week and last is. 

“You saw Dan,” Brian says, the name feeling like a cut, stinging over Brian’s flesh. It isn’t a question because he knows. He knows that’s what happened. He and Arin weren’t a united front. They didn’t stand together on the hardened ledge of Not Quite Ready to Forgive Dan Avidan. Brian stood alone, facing a steep decline, jagged rocks at the bottom, the whole thing promising nothing but pain. 

Arin’s face is tight and he doesn’t look happy, his eyes are heavy and that hurts Brian too. Just last week they were laughing, they were fine, they were healed and functioning people, and somehow Dan has yet again reduced them to sullen versions of themselves. 

Arin nods, once, sharp, “Yeah,” he says, “I did.” 

He knew it, guessed it, but it hurts to hear. It hurts to know that Arin saw Dan, though he can’t place why, or at least, he’s not ready to give voice to that reason, to pour any energy into it. He’s not ready for a lot of things. 

“Oh,” Brian says. 

“I felt like it was important to see him,” Arin goes on, as if he has to defend himself or his reasons, as if he owes Brian an explanation. “I needed to see him.” 

“How did that go?” Brian asks, trying to keep any bitterness out of his voice. 

He’s not sure it fully works judging by the way Arin’s eyes flash with pain, a fast bolt of it, gone before Brian could even really detect it. He feels bad for being so angry, feels like he has to cling to that grudge against Dan. He’s buried himself so deep in it that on principal alone he can’t let up, can’t act like it’s all that easy. 

“It was fine. Not perfect, but it was good.” 

Brian’s still looking for words when Arin speaks again. 

“You should talk to him, Bri. Just text him back.” 

“I’d rather not,” Brian says, curt, dry, serious. 

“Really, man? You’re just going to pretend Dan doesn’t exist?” 

“He did a pretty damn good job of acting like we didn’t exist these last two years. Too busy fucking around in New York.” 

“Brian,” Arin says, and the way he says his name. The way it rolls from his tongue, it makes Brian pause and meet Arin’s eyes. Somehow Arin can captivate him, somehow Arin makes things make sense. Somehow Brian has a hard time fighting Arin’s will. “He quit Skyhill.” 

“What?” Brian asks. 

Arin nods, “He told me that today. He would’ve told you if you’d actually talk to him. He’s here to stay.” 

Brian’s mind whirls. Dan gave up Skyhill? The huge fucking band he left them and Ninja Sex Party and everything he and Dan built together for? Dan dropped it? Brian’s chest is an odd swirl of light and dark, warmth and cold, a storm brewing up inside of him with nowhere to go, no release, only pressure causing it to build up, to get stronger. 

“So,” Brian begins. He doesn’t want this conversation, not this thread, so he’s not sure why he’s the one leading it. but if he has to face the music, he figures he wants to be the one conducting. “So what happens now?” 

Arin doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He doesn’t need to. They both know what Brian means, the same as they both know the spot on the couch where Brian is sitting didn’t always belong to him, but it does now and that’s what Brian wants to know.

“He wants to come back.” 

Arin’s words are like a chain dragged heavy across Brian’s heart. Of course he does. Dan wants to slide back into place like nothing ever changed. He’s done with music, and now he wants his job back. Primed to snatch away something else from Brian’s life. 

“I told him I’d talk to everyone first. That it wasn’t just my decision,” Arin goes on. 

Brian nods, but he’s zoning out, fading fast from this conversation, so over everything. How easy it is for Dan to wreck shop and then toe his way back into their lives, acting like it didn’t take forever for Arin and the rest of them to glue back the pieces of what they had. 

“What do you want?” Brian asks, though he isn’t prepared for an honest answer. 

“The fans want him back,” Arin says. 

“The fans want a lot of things we don’t give them,” Brian says. “What do _you_ want?” 

Arin’s mouth is a firm line and he meets Brian head-on, unwavering. 

“I don’t know, but I’m not going to pretend like I don’t miss him. He’s my friend, we were…well, you know how we were because you do the show with me too and—”

“And I was your seat-filler until Dan made up his mind and came home.” 

“No, Brian. That’s not it and you know it.” 

“It sure as hell seems that way. How can he fuck up our bands, almost destroy the channel, and you’re fine welcoming him back in? You really want to go back to sucking his dick on-air that bad?” 

“Brian!” Arin says, half-shouts and it’s so rare that Arin raises his voice in a serious manner to anyone, so the tone surprises him, makes his eyes widen. It’s like Arin had struck him, or just made him wise the fuck up to what he was saying. “That’s enough.” 

Brian looks at his hands, digging tight into the cushion under him. 

“I have to go,” Brian says, rushing to stand up. 

“The episodes,” Arin reminds him. 

Brian shakes his head, pain etching through him. “I’m going.” He goes to move towards the recording room door, and Arin hops to his feet with more speed than Brian might have given him credit for. 

“Just stop for a second,” Arin says. 

Brian ignores him and goes to leave and that’s when he feels the warm weight of Arin’s hand grabbing at the back of his arm. 

“You said you want this job! You want to be Not-So-Grump, then show me! Don’t walk away!” 

Something inside of Brian snaps, something breaks, something that was maybe fragile to begin with. Before he knows it, Brian is grabbing at Arin’s wrists and he’s pushing him back, back, back, until Arin bumps the wall. Then Arin is pressed against the recording room wall, breathing heavy and his face red with shouting, hair falling in his eyes. Brian’s one hand is on his wrist, the other at Arin’s shoulder and Arin’s skin is hot under his hands. 

They are sharing space, sharing harsh breaths, the anger that had been flooding them ebbing away to leave this odd tension behind. Brian takes in Arin’s pink face, his parted lips, the rapid pulse drumming against Brian’s fingertips and then Brian is swooping in, closing that space, and then….

Then Brian is kissing Arin. 

The kiss doesn’t last more than a few dizzying seconds where the storm inside of Brian breaks and the rain floods heavy through his veins, lightning crackling across his skin when his mouth meets Arin’s. He’s an idiot. He’s fucking stupid. He’s kissing his boss, his support system, his best friend. He’s so fucking stupid. 

Except Arin doesn’t pull away, doesn’t shove Brian off. For a few small seconds Arin is kissing back, a breathless thrum into the kiss. Then one of them wises up. Brian isn’t sure who and the kiss breaks, and then Arin bites his lip, the lips that Brian now knows the taste of. 

“Brian…” 

“I’m sorry,” Brian rushes and he pulls his hands from Arin’s skin like he’s going to melt him if he touches him for even a second longer. “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“I…don’t be sorry, just…. did you kiss me because...of Dan?” 

Arin knows how to make Brian laugh, Brian smile, knows how to make Brian stronger, just the same as Arin knows how to land a punch, straight to Brian’s chest. 

“What?” 

“The timing just…two years and you never kissed me…and now…?” 

Brian’s hands fall away, Brian wishes he could fall away, be swept up in darkness, into nothing. He doesn’t want to be here right now, not with Arin or Dan or anyone else. 

“I’m going,” Brian says, firmer now, doing what he meant to do five minutes ago. If he had left five minutes ago he would have been fine, he wouldn’t have kissed Arin Hanson. “I’m going home.” 

This time Arin doesn’t stop him. This time Arin doesn’t call him back. This time Arin lets him go. 

\--

“Okay,” Vernon says, “I’m counting the votes now.” 

Arin can barely concentrate on the task at hand. He’s glad Vernon somehow got nominated for the job. 

“Do we really need to vote?” Ross is saying. “It’s _Dan_.” 

“We all get to voice our opinions,” Suzy says, echoing Arin’s words from earlier. 

Arin can’t focus, can only remember holding the pen in his hand and writing his vote down on the slip of paper that Vernon had given him. Right now, all he can think about is how Brian had kissed him before he stormed out of the recording room. 

“What about Brian’s vote?” Ross asks. “He’s not here.” 

Eyes flick to Arin as if he’s the go-to person on all things Brian. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t anymore. 

“I, um, I got his opinion earlier. I know his vote,” Arin says, squaring his shoulders and trying to look normal for his friends and co-workers. Normal is the last thing he feels. He feels like he’s in a fog, a daze. Arin swears he can still feel Brian’s lips against his own, the pressure, the scratch of Brian’s stubble, like it was burned into him during their brief moment of contact. 

His stomach tightens and aches at the memory. He had been thrown off guard by Brian’s sudden actions, but he kissed back. God fucking dammit, he kissed Brian back. He’d be lying if he said the thought never crossed his mind, that his older friend never found his way into Arin’s mind or his fantasies. Brian was handsome, hilarious, brilliant, and he and Arin had only grown closer since doing the show together, since he took over for Dan. 

Arin has a terrible habit of falling for those close to him, for getting these crushes that spiral out of control. It started with Jon, and maybe if he had stayed on it would have seeded deeper inside of Arin’s chest, would have rooted itself nside of him the way it had with Dan. As much as Arin hates to admit it, he was terrible at hiding his infatuation with Dan. He could claim it was comedy, but his longing was real. Dan leaving was a gift and a curse. Arin was heartbroken that Dan was going, but his departure freed Arin from the binds of his crush. 

Now it was Brian. Brilliant, wonderful, amazing Brian. Brian who kissed Arin a mere hour ago and the same Brian who stormed out of the recording room afterwards. This whole shit with Dan being home was already so much, and the last thing Arin needed was more tangled strings to sort out, more bullshit thrown onto his lap. 

Did Brian mean that kiss? Or was it some byproduct of Dan’s return, some stray emotion gone rogue and resulting in their kiss? Arin is afraid to put stock in it. To think about it. He’s afraid to examine it too closely, afraid he’ll want it again. If he did, realistically, it’d be okay, it’d be doable. He and Suzy had long since established boundaries and rules of their relationship, one of them being flexibility. Still, Arin is already itching to talk to her about what happened, to ask her opinion on it all. 

“Alright,” Vernon says. He sets down the stack of small slips of paper they had used to cast their votes, skewing them across the table top, “The results are in and we want Dan back.” 

A wave of relief washes through Arin and he was hoping, he didn’t want to assume, but he was hoping everyone else was ready to forgive and forget, to let Dan back into their circle. A murmuring begins in their group, small talk, maybe talk about Dan or about who would tell Brian—Arin already knows that task falls to him—and Arin feels both good and bad. Good to be able to welcome Dan back. Bad because Brian isn’t ready, isn’t on that same page. 

Five minutes later when the impromptu meeting is ended and the Grumps return to work, Arin corners Vernon, a hand on his shoulder. Vernon looks up at him with big eyes and a nervous smile. 

“What’s up?” 

“I wanted to know,” Arin says low, not to hide but because maybe he’s afraid of the answer, “how many people voted no?” 

“I believe we agreed it would be confidential,” Vernon says, trying to tease but Arin swallows thickly. 

“I changed my mind.” 

Vernon nods. “Alright, cards on the table, there were no ‘no’s. Everyone said yes.” 

“Not everyone,” Arin says with a sigh, knowing their one hold-out. The one person who doesn’t want Dan back in the office. 

Vernon’s mouth flattens. He’s clearly uncomfortable being shouldered with this, with just a hint of the shit Arin is going through. Arin almost wishes that he could pass it all off. He could give up how he feels torn between the past and the future, how he feels Brian’s mouth lingering against his like a ghost. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Arin says, more to himself than to Vernon. 

“He’ll come around, maybe, hopefully,” Vernon says, patting Arin’s shoulder as he slips away to head back to his desk and resume his work. 

Arin tries to work. He makes an honest effort of it. They didn’t get to record so somehow he’s got to get Brian’s ass in here tomorrow to knock out some episodes so they don’t use up all their one-offs. He’s absorbed in his thoughts, his plans, and a few hours later he’s startled by a soft hand on his shoulder. 

Arin looks up into the eyes of his wife and he smiles. Suzy touches his hair, fingers smoothing down the length of his ponytail, comforting him already with even this simple act. 

“Come have lunch with me?” she asks. 

Arin is quick to follow. 

His nerves are tight as he sits with Suzy, the kitchen area all but empty as the other Grumps decided to go out for lunch, Arin staying in because he’s back on his Paleo diet for the umpteenth time.. 

“Are you worried about Brian?” Suzy asks. 

Arin nods. “Yeah, kinda. He’s not taking Dan coming back very well.” 

“He was really hurt by it,” Suzy points out and Arin knows he was, remembers firsthand how it all fucked Brian up, how he lost himself in one fell swoop, how much it took for Arin to fix all of that. He’s scared of all his work being undone. He’s scared that Brian will be that same person, staggering in the dark pits of pain and lost. “What are you going to do about Dan?”

“I’m going to let him come back.” 

“What about Brian?” Suzy asks, her green eyes flickering over him, curious, defensive of both men and of Arin himself. 

“I’m not sure what Brian will want. I don’t want him to stop recording with me.”

Suzy reaches across the table and holds Arin’s hand, her painted nails sweeping across his skin smooth and soft. Arin looks at her, as lovely as the day he met her. It’s impossible for him to hold anything back from her. 

“Brian kissed me today.” 

Suzy’s hand freezes over Arin’s and her eyes widen but she looks nothing more than mildly surprised. She smiles. “Really?” 

“It was weird…not the kiss but…just, I guess, why he kissed me. I don’t know. I didn’t hate it, and I’ve thought about it and him but—”

“I can’t say I’m too surprised,” Suzy says with a shrug. “Funny, I always pictured this with you and Dan. I was always waiting for the day you’d come home from a recording session red-faced and smiling and you’d tell me you two finally did it.” 

Arin blushes despite himself. Suzy knew all too well about Arin’s crush on Dan. But that was gone, buried, erased when Dan left, right? 

“That’s a whole other issue,” Arin says. “I have to deal with business first.” 

“Unfortunately for _you_ ,” Suzy says, “Brian kissing you is kind of business related.” 

Arin sighs and digs into his lunch. He’ll have to see Dan soon, Brian too, but for right now he’s going to eat and avoid the issue altogether. 

\--

Dan feels just as isolated back in California as he did in New York. He hangs around Barry’s apartment while Barry is at the office. He tries in vain to text Brian, sending him a few simple messages like, _Can we talk?_

His messages go widely ignored and it guts Dan that Brian can so simply act like he doesn’t exist, that he doesn’t want to see him at all, doesn’t want to repair what they once had together. Yes, Dan fucked up, but he’s back and trying to fix all that he’d wronged. He can’t do that if Brian won’t give him a fucking shot. 

Dan is used to being busy, to having a packed schedule. Now he’s got nothing but down time, seeing as he isn’t working with the Grumps and he isn’t in Skyhill. Neither he nor Brian ever said that Ninja Sex Party or Starbomb was done forever, but now, Dan realizes as he lies on the air mattress in his old room, now he isn’t in a band at all. The thought terrifies him. To have no outlet for his musical ideas, to not have music at all, makes Dan’s heart beat too fast. 

It’s two days before he sees Arin again. Their first reunion wasn’t a fluke and Dan really is just that excited to be around Arin, even if it’s just what they are doing right now. Sitting on the couch. Something about being in Arin’s presence makes Dan feel safe, secure, like nothing can go wrong because Arin is right there. 

“I’d say we could go grab some lunch,” Dan says, “maybe that place with the huge pancakes but…” Dan trails off. 

“But you’re kinda a big deal right now,” Arin says, a sly smile crossing his lips. 

Dan rubs at the back of his neck. “I guess. I thought the lovelies could be invasive sometimes, but it was nothing compared to the Skyhill fans. It’s pretty intense.” 

“I’d see weird stories about you pop up on my Twitter sometimes; ‘Who is Dan Avidan dating?’ Shit like that, and it’s weird because it was like hearing about you but not you at the same time. You in New York wasn’t the same you I knew here.” 

“I was more relaxed here. New York was fun, and making music, playing for those huge stadiums, was more than I could ever hope for. But maybe I’m just too old now or something or I didn’t get it in the way I really wanted, with the people I really wanted.” 

Dan feels Brian’s name bubble up in his throat and he tries to swallow it down. Being here, close to his old life, skimming the edges but not fully immersed, it’s hard. He wants to slide back into that life, that scene, but Dan knows he can’t do it without laying the ground work, the same as he had to learn to reconnect with Pete when they resurrected Skyhill. 

“I feel you, man,” Arin says, nodding like he understands. “Sometimes you get your dream and it isn’t as perfect as you’d hoped.” 

Dan nods, bites his lip. “Um, speaking of the people I want to be around…have you talked to Brian?” 

It’s stupid to ask. He knows Arin has. It kills him that Brian won’t talk to him but he’ll talk to Arin. It makes sense, it doesn’t take much to see that the two of them were closer now, closer than they had been before Dan left. 

Arin nods and Dan can feel the tension surge between them. Brian being like the elephant in the room, unspoken but undeniably there. “I did,” Arin says, “I talked to Brian and the other Grumps. We made a decision.” 

Dan swallows, panic filling him, but he wills himself to stay cool. Whatever happens next is because of decisions he made. Whatever the Grumps decided it was because of Dan’s actions first. He can’t fault them for whatever they chose, even if it’s the last thing he wants. 

“Oh?” Dan says. “Um, what’s the consensus?” 

“Well, the overwhelming majority wants you back.” 

Dan’s heart dares to lift, clouds parting inside of him, letting rays of hope slip through the cracks. Dan licks his lips, forces himself to keep Arin’s gaze. 

“What do you want?” 

Arin doesn’t falter or turn away, doesn’t break away from Dan. He’s always appreciated how Arin could look terrifying things in the face, could challenge them right back, like he wasn’t scared. His voice is the only thing that gives him away, a tired ache, a shake he can’t hide. 

“I want you back.” 

Dan feels the grays inside of him disappearing, evaporating. He feels lighter. He can come back? Could it really be true? The Grumps forgave him? 

“But,” Arin continues, “I’m not making Brian stop being Not-So Grump.” 

“Oh,” Dan says, and the disappointment stings, but he nods, steels himself. He’ll accept that. Who is he to say no? Arin is the boss, and he and Brian are close, and it isn’t fair for Dan to waltz back in and make demands. He’s in no position to do so. “What, um, what does Brian think?” 

Now Arin falters. His confidence falls away like a mask slipping from his face. He’s looking at Dan like he’s facing certain death and Dan feels those nerves renewed inside of him. 

“That bad, huh?” 

“He’s hurt,” Arin says. 

“He didn’t want me to come back?” 

“I’m hoping he’ll come around,” Arin says, and it sounds honest but not exactly hopeful. 

Dan is excited to get to the office, excited to put all of himself back into something, a task, a job, something to _do_ besides sit around Barry’s apartment and watch TV, but he’s worried, scared of the possible tension. What if Brian won’t talk to him in person? What if he has to tip-toe around his former best friend like he’s something to be hidden? 

“My plan,” Arin rolls on, determined not to let this conversation get away from him, “is for you and Brian to alternate being Not-So Grump. You take turns. You both do it. I’m not sure how Brian will react but this is the best I can do, Dan.” 

Dan reaches out and he grabs Arin’s shoulder, squeezing, smiling, still so happy to just be back and with them, with Arin. The rest would come with time. 

“That’s fine. It’s fine. I understand. I know you’re trying to please everyone, take care of everyone. It’s what you’re best at really.” 

Arin flushes and Dan’s hand is still there, locked on solid muscle and warm skin pulsing underneath and Dan can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. Arin has always been important to him. Having this piece back in place feels good, steadies Dan in a way that makes him believe that maybe someday Brian will forgive him too. 

Arin’s hand finds Dan’s elbow, cupping his skin and Dan laughs. They’re looking at each other the same way they would whenever they geared up to record. Dan feels nervous for some reason. Arin’s gaze feeling heavier than he’s used to. Arin’s mouth quirks up in a smile. 

“I missed you every day while you were gone,” Arin admits, the flush on his cheeks darkening, “You’re my best friend and the one I tell all my secrets to and I swear some days you knew me better than, like, Suzy did, and I never had that with anyone else, and I couldn’t believe it was just gone. That you were gone.”

Dan’s heart trembles in his chest, mind and body whirling with emotions and memories, of all the experiences he and Arin have shared, how Arin is the brother he never had. 

“I’m sorry,” Dan whispers, his fingers digging into the fabric of Arin’s t-shirt. “I never wanted to hurt you or Brian or anyone else.” 

Arin nods, his thumb rubbing a small circle against the rough skin at Dan’s elbow, like Dan is a worry-stone. “I know. I can’t say if someone offered me all I ever wanted that I would be able to turn it down.” 

“I don’t plan on leaving again,” Dan says, “if that helps.” 

Arin smiles, nods once, his hand leaving Dan’s skin and settling on his lap. Dan doesn’t realize how much he misses the touch until it’s gone. 

“It helps,” Arin says. “It helps a lot.” 

\--

Brian comes back to work the next day. He’s ready to put the last time he was in the recording room with Arin behind him, to pretend it never happened. The kiss included. He feels so stupid. His stomach aches at the memory of kissing Arin. It happened so fast, a rush of emotion that Brian hadn’t anticipated, like his body was moving on automation. Dan comes back and suddenly it’s like everything goes haywire, like Brian can’t function the way he always had.

He had gone home that night and drank himself stupid. He blew off Arin’s texts, Dan’s calls. His phone was tight in his hand, and Brian had to drop it into a drawer in the kitchen before he slammed it against the nearest wall or even worse, before he answered them. He hasn’t talked to Arin since they kissed in the recording room. He knows they should, that it’s something they definitely need to talk about. Brian would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about seeing Arin again. He was nervous to see what Arin would say now in the light of a new day. 

Brian slides his sunglasses into his hair and shuts the recording room door behind him. When he’d come in he’d simply asked Barry where Arin was and Barry had nodded towards the recording room. 

“He’s waiting for you I think.” 

And now Brian was here, and Arin was looking back at Brian from over his shoulder as he sat soft and slumped on the couch. His hair is down for once and it’s been so long since Brian’s seen it down. He always forgets how long it is, how it curls at the ends near his shoulder. 

“Hi,” Arin says carefully. 

“Hey,” Brian says, voice rough, sounded jagged in the quiet of the room. “How are you?” 

Arin shrugs. “No complaints.” 

Really? Because Brian had a list a mile long. He pads around the couch and sits at the other end, the space feeling huge between them. All he can think of is the kiss, the press of Arin’s pink mouth, the scratch of his facial hair against Brian’s jaw, how he’d responded. He can only think about the kiss, but it’s the last thing he wants to talk about. 

“So, you didn’t answer my texts.” 

“I know,” Brian says. “I needed some ‘me time’.”

“Did you read them before coming over here?” 

Brian nods, mouth firming. Arin said in the text that they needed to talk, that it was about Dan. Brian’s none too excited about whatever is going to happen next. 

“If you could, I’d like you to treat this like a band aid. Fast and as painless as possible.” 

“Brian…”Arin says with a sigh, guilt prickles deep inside of Brian’s bones. “I already told you I’m not taking your position away from you. You’re still Not-So-Grump.” 

“The fans are going to flay me alive if I keep the positon over Dan.” 

“The fans love you too.” 

Brian snorts. “Compared to Dan?” 

Arin is quiet. Brian is aware of his once-upon-a-time jealousy of Dan. How he didn’t like feeling like the second billing on his own show, his own channel. Brian knows that’s long since passed by now, but it can still be hard to compare yourself to Dan. 

“Look, we voted.” 

“Without me?” 

“Yeah, because you decided to take off, and I knew your vote anyway,” Arin charges on.

Brian squares his jaw. Arin is being stubborn, as stubborn as Brian is about this Dan situation. He knows full well that he’s likely the sole hold-out, the one person not ready to welcome Dan back with open arms. He knows he’s making things difficult but maybe that’s what he wants. It should be hard, it shouldn’t be easy for Dan to come back, like it was nothing. Maybe, a deep and bitter part of Brian wants to make Dan suffer and hurt the way Brian had when Dan left. If Dan wants to talk to him, then the last thing Brian wants is to give him that. Two years ago all Brian wanted was to see Dan and to stop him from leaving, and no one could give him that. 

“Anyway, we voted, and we agreed that we’d bring Dan back, let him work here again.” 

Brian’s stomach feels cold. He knew it was coming. He knew it the second that he heard Dan was back in California. It was only a matter of time before the others wanted Dan back. Brian feels a little like he did all those years ago when he first met the other Grumps. He feels like he’s the second fiddle, the lesser of two stars. Everyone wants Dan, Brian is used to that. He had just thought for a moment that he was finally someone who was wanted too. 

“Does Dan know?” Brian asks, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral. He’s not sure he’s succeeding but he won’t back down from asking the question. 

“I saw him yesterday,” Arin says, rolling his shoulders and keeping his face calm. 

Brian nods. “I figured as much. You could never say no to Dan.” 

That calmness fades away much faster than Brian thought. Arin’s eyes widen a little, maybe surprised by Brian’s clipped tone. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you’d do anything to make Dan happy. You always have. You’ve always fawned over him with stars in your eyes like you’re his biggest fan,” Brian spits, unable to stop the words from leaving him. They almost surprise him, these thoughts he’s held so close to his chest, these last two years he spent working so hard to prove to Arin that he could be as good as Dan, that he could make Arin as happy as Dan had, and now it felt pointless, felt like he achieved nothing. 

Arin takes the words with a firm jaw, big eyes but then Brian can see the moment his brain is calculating, the second he doesn’t like what he hears. 

“Dan’s not the one who kissed me,” Arin says, voice low and treading on dangerous. 

Brian pushes past the acknowledgment of the kiss, too bitter and blinded by a seething anger that worms through him to bother being rational about all of this. He’s angry at Dan, maybe Arin too, and the others. Didn’t they know how hard it was for him? Why were they all acting like it was just so damn easy to forgive Dan? 

“Did you want it to be? Did you wish it were him instead of me?” Brian says, just as low as Arin’s voice had sunk. 

Arin’s eyes spark with something, some emotion that Brian can’t place. One that scares him as much as it intrigues him. 

“I’m not the one who’s using kissing as means to hold on to a person. You kissed me because you were scared and desperate and not because…I don’t know…I thought I knew you, Brian. I thought we were close as fuck, but I don’t know who I’m sitting next to right now.” 

Brian’s insidessqueeze with pain. “You don’t fucking know why I kissed you.” 

“I know you had two years and you never made a fucking move! Then the second Dan comes back it’s like you want to put a claim on me, like you’re a dog ready to piss all over me because you’re fucking scared of Dan sniffing around me or some shit!” Arin’s voice is rising steadily and Brian is thankful for the soundproofing of the room to keep their conversation some iota of private. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking scared! I have every right to be scared! It doesn’t take a genius to see that you and Dan had a special connection, one I wanted on both sides, that I thought I had with him and with you, but I always get shafted because you’ll always, _always_ pick Dan, Arin. It’s just a fact.” 

Arin’s face is red, creeping across his cheeks, down the pale line of his throat. 

“That’s really what you think? You think, what? I kept you here for two years because I felt sorry for you or some shit? That I didn’t _really_ enjoy your company? That every moment we spent together since Dan took off wasn’t important and real to me? You don’t know what the fuck you’re saying, Brian. If I didn’t give a shit about you do you think I would have told Dan that he has to share the role of Not-So-Grump? Do you think I would even be here having this conversation right now if I didn’t fucking love you to death, man?!” 

Brian’s heart is a whirlwind in his chest. It’s like a floodgate has opened and shit is pouring out faster and deeper than Brian was prepared for. If he isn’t careful the tide will pull him under, sink him, and he’ll drown in it. In Arin and Dan and this, he has the same feeling from two years ago where drinking away your problems sounded better than actually dealing with them. 

Brian is up and on his feet before he realizes what he’s doing and maybe Arin can see the skittish animal lurking inside of him because Arin eyes him and then he’s up too, bigger and taller than Brian. In a lightning fast movement Arin has Brian’s wrist in his hand, holding not too tight, but firm enough that Brian can’t shake him loose as easily as he wants. 

“Stop,” Brian says. 

“You don’t get to run away this time. You can’t start this and run away, Brian!” 

Brian forces his eyes closed. “He was my best friend, you’re my best friend! He _left_. We worked so hard and he fucking _left_ , like none of it ever mattered, like we didn’t sacrifice to make it all work. He left me like it was so fucking easy even though I thought he loved me. You tell me you love me, Arin…you could leave just like him.” 

Brian’s shaking, letting out too much and he hates being this fragile thing, a small bird with clipped wings, delicate and broken. Arin’s hand is still around his wrist and Brian can feel his pulse thumping under his skin, against Arin’s fingertips. Arin is quiet.

The very next thing Brian feels is a hand on his jaw, fingers rough and calloused and undeniably warm touching him, tilting his face up and he feels a puff of damp breath, he can smell Arin’s deodorant and that weird spicy shampoo he sometimes uses, the same one Arin had given him for his birthday, swearing by its cleanliness. The hand on Brian’s jaw smooths open and warm across the plain of his cheek, cupping Brian’s face. 

“I’m _not_ going to leave,” Arin says, and Brian can _feel_ the words for how close Arin must be standing to him. He feels Arin’s thumb brush Brian’s veins on his wrist, a smooth sweep of skin against skin. “I promise you that.” And Brian is about to open his eyes when he feels Arin’s mouth press against his own, a blind kiss, their second in that very room. This time it’s Brian’s face tilted up into Arin’s hand and Arin kissing him so gently, so soft, full of something Brian is scared to place in the category of love. 

All the air is sucked out of him and Brian doesn’t realize until they break apart that his trembling hand found its way to Arin’s t-shirt, fingers clenched in the fabric. He opens his eyes and Arin is there, looking softer and younger than he ever has before. Brian feels weak, feels so unlike himself these days that he doesn’t really know who he is in this moment, like the closest he can get to himself and normal is when he’s with Arin. 

“I…” Brian says, voice chapped, lips damp from Arin’s meeting them. “I didn’t kiss you because I was jealous…maybe I did. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s like I didn’t even know I wanted to until it happened.”

“Gee, thanks,” Arin says. 

“No, I mean...I’m _glad_ I did, but I’ve learned from experience that crushing on your co-workers never ends well, so when I began to feel things for you…I just wanted to shut it all down and maybe I did too good of a job at it.” 

Arin frowns, looks like he has questions, looks nervous to ask. 

“Co-workers?” Arin asks, that brave streak surging through him, allowing him to forge ahead where Brian could never imagine himself if the tables were turned. “Do you mean you and…Dan?” 

Brian’s heart squeezes in his chest. He closes his eyes and tries to keep from flying back to all those years ago when the whole world was just him and Dan and Dan was so proud of him, smiling at him like Brian was everything. Back then when Brian let himself trip and fall into an emotional nightmare too fast, too severe, and it nearly killed him. 

“Yeah.” It’s really all he wants to say about it, to offer no more of an explanation. The less he can think about it the better. 

“Dan never mentioned that.” 

“I don’t think Dan _knew_. Maybe he did but we never talked about it. If he knew he never admitted it.” 

Arin’s eyes are big and sad and the two of them are still close, close enough that Brian can feel Arin’s warmth seeping out of him. 

“Maybe I’ve wanted to kiss you,” Arin says with a shrug. “Maybe it’s something I’ve thought about but never thought you’d reciprocate. Bonding with you has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me, I don’t regret it and I don’t want to go back to feeling like I don’t know you as well as I do now.” 

Brian nods. “I’m sorry. I’m…this is all really hard I guess. It brings back bad memories and just…shit I don’t want to deal with.” 

“I know, I get it, but I think you need to talk to Dan,” Arin says, his tone gentle. “I know you don’t want to, but you _need_ to, Brian. Hear him out, see him face-to-face. It will help. He misses you the way you missed him. I know he does.” 

Brian bites his lip. “I know I need to, but I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” 

“Dan is going to start coming into the office.” 

“I know.” 

“You can’t hide from him for the rest of your life.” 

“I know.” 

Arin’s fingers trace the line of Brian’s forehead, his cheekbone, touching him soft, like Brian is something expensive, valuable, something Arin doesn’t want to break. 

“What about this kissing stuff?” Arin asks. 

“What about it?” 

“Is that something you want to do more of?” 

“Fuck yes,” Brian says with a sharp laugh. “Of course, if you wanted to?” 

Arin smiles. “I think I want to do that.” And he seals his words by leaning in and catching Brian’s mouth in a soft kiss, his tongue sweeping out to trace the seam of Brian’s lips and Brian opens easily for Arin. He sighs into their shared kiss, feeling his panic settle into a dull thrum in his belly. How did Arin always know how to fix things? How did he know to repair things that Brian didn’t even know needed looking at? 

He’ll talk to Dan. He has to, but right now isn’t that moment. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he will. 

\--

They set up a schedule. Dan films Game Grumps on Tuesdays, just like they used to do before he left. Brian films Grumps on Thursdays. They alternate different series. Brian and Arin had been in the middle of a fifty-plus episode series on some new game about space and aliens. Dan and Arin begin with the Mario game that Dan missed in his time off. The episodes take a slot each, Brian and Arin’s coming out in the morning and Dan and Arin’s in the evening. 

This is their first week of filming. The episodes won’t be out for two more weeks, and sometime in between Arin knows he has to address the fact that Dan came back, that Dan and Brian are sharing the co-host role, but he doesn’t want to do it yet. A lot of fans somehow already know that Dan is in California, a lot of them losing their minds online wondering if Dan is going to guest on Grumps while he’s visiting. 

Arin’s not ready to give up the ghost. He needs to keep this private, to himself, to let himself adjust back into the role of co-hosting alongside Dan. They are recording today and Brian is nowhere to be found. When Dan came in the office he was flooded with hugs and laughs and stories and Arin had stepped back for a moment to drink in the sight of the other Grumps being happy to see Dan, like he was a long-lost pet, a family member thought lost at sea, so suddenly returned to them all. He couldn’t help but smile seeing it, knowing in his heart they all made the right decision, but as Ross _finally_ unwound himself from Dan, Arin could see the moment Dan scanned the office and found no one else, found no trace of Brian waiting to say hello. He looked away before Dan had found his gaze, but he hadn’t missed the utter pain that had laced Dan’s face. 

Now the two of them were in the recording room, gearing up to record their first episode. Dan plops on the couch, rubbing the arm like the seat is sacred, like some holy throne that he’s been granted to sit in. 

“Feels good to be back here again,” Dan admits. 

Arin smiles. “I know what you mean. It feels good to look over and see you sitting there, man. It really fucking does.” 

Dan smiles but it’s nervous and Arin can relate to that sense of nerves. He’s nervous too— nervous to see if their connection withstood the distance, if they can come back and gel again with that natural chemistry that did wonders for them in the first place. 

If it isn’t there or if it’s awkward and strained, it’s going to hurt. Arin’s not ready for that kind of pain. He had prefaced the recording session by explaining a little to Dan about the game they were going to play. It had been long-requested on the channel, but Arin had been putting it off. He had no real excuse for doing so back then when fans asked why he and Brian hadn’t played it. Arin hadn’t wanted to admit that it was because so many of the Mario games had been done with Dan, and he didn’t want to break a tradition. Even if Dan never came back, he couldn’t bring himself to play the games without the other man. 

“Should we do our old warm-up?” Dan asks, a smile crossing his face. “For old time’s sake?” 

“Sure,” Arin says, a grin splitting his mouth. They shift around until the two of them are sitting crisscrossed on the couch facing one another. Arin can feel a sense of giddy tension, not bad, but something that makes him want to giggle. He can feel it bubbling in his stomach. Dan’s huge hands are settled on his knees and he’s still smiling when his gaze finds Arin’s. 

Arin and Brian didn’t do this warm-up. It wasn’t an active decision not to, they just never did, but it’s still strange for Arin to be looking into Dan’s familiar eyes. It’s hard to explain to people their bond, their connection, how from the word ‘go’ Arin felt something so intensely strong that it scared him as much as it thrilled him, and it never stopped scaring him, it still hasn’t stopped. He remembers Suzy’s words, her surprise that it was Brian he kissed and not Dan. 

His bond with Brian was undeniably strong and there are feelings there, emotions deep and solid that Arin wants to investigate. He likes kissing Brian, wants to kiss Brian more, feel his body and his heart beat against Arin’s palm. He wants to learn Brian on an even deeper level than he already has. Arin thinks of that as he looks into Dan’s eyes, searching the heavy browns, staring so intently that he finds the flecks of gold and green hidden in them, like if he looks for long enough he’ll see through Dan’s vision, reclaim those lost two years. 

“What are you thinking?” Dan asks, and it’s odd because they don’t usually talk during these staring sessions. Maybe it was because Arin had looked dazed, maybe because Arin’s face was betraying more than he thought. 

Arin scans Dan’s face. “That I can’t wait to play this with you,” Arin says. It’s not really a lie. He is excited to play the game with Dan, to film. He’s nervous but undoubtedly eager to get started and see how the session plays out. 

Dan nods, takes Arin’s words at face value. “Me too, man. I mean, I still feel a little nervous. It almost feels like my first episode all over again, or maybe more like hooking up with an old girlfriend. You already know all my moves.” 

“I’m sure New York taught you a couple of new tricks,” Arin says with a wink and Dan lets out tiny giggles, true but embedded with nerves. “If all else fails, you have a bevy of new stories to tell.” 

“That’s true, that’s kinda my thing.” 

Arin turns on his controller and taps the start button to select the game. It flickers across the screen and he glances at Dan as he picks up the capture’s remote. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

Dan nods. “As I’ll ever be.” 

Arin smiles, presses the ‘on’ button. 

“Welcome back to Game Grumps! I’ve got news for you kiddos. I’m joined on this couch by our long-lost Grump, Dan Avidan.” 

“That’s right,” Dan says, and the nerves slide from his voice like they had never been there in the first place, his performance face so much more solid since he started doing huge shows. “Hi, lovelies, I’ve missed you.” 

“Our prodigal son has come home,” Arin says, “and we’re playing a _highly_ requested game, so no fucking complaints, okay!”

“Arin, that’s asking for the impossible!” 

It goes on like that, the two of them recording their episodes, and as the timer ticks on and Arin tracks the start and stop times for each episode he feels better and better. The chemistry is still there, is palpable between them, and Arin almost feels like crying with how relieved he is. Maybe he can have it both ways, have them both as his co-hosts like he really wants and have it all pan out. Maybe everything will come together and be just like it was before. 

By the time they finish the last episode Arin has dissolved into laughter over something Dan had said, the hard belly laughs that always infect Dan, make him laugh and snort too. When Arin turns off the capture he and Dan are slumped together in a giggly heap on the couch, sharing breaths as they try to recover. 

“I think I’m crying,” Arin says, wiping his eyes with his thumb. 

He feels Dan press his jaw to the top of Arin’s head. 

“This session was amazing,” Dan says. “Don’t you think so?” 

“Yeah,” Arin says and he can feel Dan’s warmth seeping in against him. It’s a comfort, the two of them falling back into their old dynamic. Dan feels like an old and worn-in t-shirt. “I was…pretty scared to be honest,” Arin admits. He had been hesitant to bring it up, not wanting to create a weird tension, a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. nNow that the episodes are in the can and they are as good as Arin wanted, he feels he can be honest. 

“You were?” Dan asks, the heat leaving Arin as he feels Dan shift away. Arin sits up and then he’s facing Dan again. Dan frowns but he nods. 

“I mean, I get it. I was scared too. That I had messed up too much or that we just hadn’t talked enough, but it was like we picked up right where we left off.” 

Arin nods and he watches Dan’s frown dissolve, sees a soft smile take its place. 

“Everything around me can change but somehow you still feel the same,” Dan says. 

“That’s pretty sappy,” Arin teases, his heart pulsing in his chest. 

Dan shrugs, “Maybe being away from the ones you love kind of puts everything in focus. It makes you see what and who is important.” 

Arin swallows, his chest tight. Two years ago he was mildly in love with Dan, with every bit of him, his laugh, his unruly mane of hair, his lean body, curved hips, flat ass, the whole package. He never acted on it because he was scared and then Dan was gone and Arin was sure that his crush left with him, was sure it was dead. But now Dan is back, a little softer, with small wisps of grey around his temples that Dan doesn’t bother hiding anymore, a few more lines on his face, but as beautiful as Arin remembers. 

It seems his crush wasn’t as erased as he thought. Arin thinks of Brian. He thinks of their lips pressed together and how his heart raced just the same as it is now, how full he is, how he has feelings for Brian undoubtedly and wants to keep kissing Brian, to keep exploring the facets of what he and Brian could be. But sitting here in the quiet dim lighting of their recording room, watching Dan smile at him, Arin can’t honestly say he doesn’t want to kiss Dan right now. 

He would. He wants it. He wants to kiss Dan. 

He settles for an “I love you, dude.” 

Dan grins, tugs Arin into his arms, squeezing him with a surprising amount of strength. 

“I love you too.” 

\--

As it turns out, the first time Dan and Brian see each other isn’t on purpose. Dan had stopped by the office for a second, maybe he’d stay half an hour tops, just to get a jump start on some work he needs to get done. Dan’s still learning the new schedules, still adjusting to the routine, and he doesn’t realize that Brian’s in the office until he hears the low bark of a laugh that rings through his body like a bell. 

Dan freezes, mid-step. His head whips to where he remembers Brian’s desk being and that’s where he finds his elusive friend. Brian is sitting and laughing with Ross and Vernon. His head is thrown back, mouth open in a huge smile, eyes crinkled closed in delight. Dan finds a smile grace his lips. God, he’s missed Brian so much. 

Then Ross spots him and waves. “Hey, man.” 

And Vernon and Brian are following suit, Brian wheeling around in his chair to see who had arrived. Dan watches as Brian realizes that he’s here. He watches the slow fade of Brian’s smile morphing into a surprised look, that sliding into a deep look of anger, one that burns at Dan’s stomach. 

“Hey,” Dan says softly, like he’s an unwelcomed presence, something to be apologized for. 

Brian turns in his chair and Ross and Vernon’s eyes follow Brian, sadness etched in their faces. Dan stands there, awkward, stiff, feeling like he might puke. The tension is so thick in the room he thinks he could suffocate on it. It seems that ignoring Dan isn’t good enough for Brian. He actually pushes away from his desk, jolting up and heading straight for the nearest exit. 

Dan isn’t a confrontational person. He tries to stay zen, to let the pieces fall where they may, but he can’t let Brian go. He just _can’t_. He’s waited two years and a month to see Brian again and now Brian was trying to run out on him. 

“Wait!” Dan says, and on instinct he follows Brian. It may be the dumbest fucking idea he’s ever had. He should be giving Brian space, waiting until Brian decides he’s ready, but Dan’s heart is in his throat, like Brian is some mythical creature that Dan might not ever see again, like this is his only chance. 

Brian slides into the storage room at the back of the office and Dan slips in after him, the door banging closed with a force that rings in his ears in the more confined space. Brian whirls around, eyes hot and wide and a little _scared_. Dan’s heart aches. He never wanted Brian to be afraid of him, never wanted this kind of look directed at him. 

“How many fucking cues do you need to realize that I don’t want to talk to you?” Brian hisses, his voice like venom, sure to poison Dan. 

“I’m sorry, I know. I know you don’t want to see me,” Dan rushes out. “But…can we just talk? It’s been so long and I—”

“I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses!” Brian says, voice rising. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” 

“Brian,” Dan says, voice weak. He’s shit at conflict. He can remember the times he’s argued with someone on one hand. It breaks his heart that it’s Brian this time around. He honestly feels like he might cry. “I miss you so much, Bri.” 

“If you missed me, you would have seen me sometime in the last two years.” 

“It isn’t that simple!” Dan says, “I _wanted_ to come home. I wanted to see you all, I wanted to talk to you. After I left, you stopped answering my texts and calls. I wanted to give you space and then…it just felt like you wanted to forget I ever existed at all.” 

Brian frowns deeper and Dan’s shaking, honestly trembling. 

“We didn’t see each other much when you moved to London and—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Brian says, “Don’t you compare that to this. It isn’t the same. I came back as much as I fucking could. We talked on Skype, we worked on music. _You’re_ the one who destroyed everything we worked for so you could be a selfish asshole and make _your_ dream come true.” 

Dan’s hand curls into a loose fist, fingers tightening and loosening. The room feels too small, too heavy. Dan can’t breathe. Brian is a ball of anger in front of him and Dan wants to soothe, wants to fix everything he messed up, wants to walk backwards on this journey that led him to this moment. He wants to retrace his steps and walk a new path, one where Brian doesn’t hate him.

“I had to try! Did I go about it the right way? No…I could have done a million things better…I could have taken you with me, asked you to come with me. I should have fought for you, Brian.” 

Brian’s shoulders shake and his eyes meet the floor, hidden from Dan. He wants so bad to step forward and hold Brian, pull him into his arms and hug him because all he’s fucking wanted was to see Brian, to be around him again. Dan doesn’t trust trying to touch him right now, too afraid of what might happen. 

“Why didn’t you...?” Brian asks, voice small and gaze locked on the floor. 

“What?” Dan asks.

Brian meets Dan’s gaze, eyes burning a brilliant icy blue. 

“Why didn’t you take me with you? I wasn’t good enough for Skyhill? After all we’ve been through and made? All the fucking things we accomplished together, and you left me here to make music with someone else!” 

“I…” Dan struggles for words, for reason. He feels like he understood himself, understood the decisions he made and the rationale behind them but right now he’s struck dumb, can’t think of one good reason why this happened, besides the one truth that stands out amongst everything else and that’s one thing Dan doesn’t want to own up to. 

“Answer me!” Brian shouts, making Dan flinch. 

“I…we had NSP and we had Starbomb…we had you and me and Arin in these groups. We were all together. If I left and I took you to join Skyhill…if it was me and you and…we left…” 

Brian’s smart. He gets it before Dan has the guts to admit anything. 

“You didn’t want to hurt Arin…” Brian breathes. 

Dan’s insides quiver, stomach lurching and threatening to expel the tea he had for breakfast.

“I’m sorry.” 

“You couldn’t take us both, couldn’t pull Arin from his life and California and his _wifeI_. So you left us both. You left me because you wanted to spare his feelings.” 

Dan swallows thick and shaky. “We owe Arin a lot.” 

“You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I don’t appreciate the fuck out of Arin? I spent the last two years with Arin. Right at his fucking side and now you come back and just act like nothing changed, like you can take him from me like you fucking took everything else!” 

Brian’s tone is vicious, loud, unfathomably angry. Dan barely recognizes him in this moment and his words sting, flit across Dan’s skin like knives, cutting at the exposed pieces of Dan’s body, aiming to wound or worse, to kill. 

“Arin is my best friend, you are too.” 

“Arin is _more_ than that to me.”

Dan’s eyebrows furrow, he watches Brian, seeing the heat in his eyes, the tense anger riling in his stocky body. He’s known Brian for so long but he’s so rarely seen Brian look like this, act like this, talk this way. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I kissed him last week. He kissed me too. We’re not like you and him. We’re _better_.” 

Dan’s eyes go wide. Brian’s got to be fucking with him. Arin would tell him. Arin would tell Dan if he kissed Brian, wouldn’t he? Maybe before he would have…or maybe not…Dan’s world feels thrown off kilter, wobbling dangerously around him. 

“You and Arin are…?” 

“Yeah,” Brian says and it feels like a punch to his stomach, “Things were perfect while you were gone. Arin and I together, doing the show, being close as fuck and happy. We don’t _need_ you.” 

“Stop,” Dan says. “Fucking _stop_ , Brian. I know you don’t mean it.” 

“Don’t I? We haven’t seen or talked in _two_ years. I’m pretty sure that’s terms for not being friends anymore, don’t you?” 

Dan’s got tears welling up in his eyes and he hates it. Anger pools in his stomach and any strong emotion draws a tearful response from Dan. He fucking hates that he’s seconds away from crying, that this conversation is going as bad as it could possibly be. 

“ _Stop it_!” Dan shouts. 

“Oh, is our peace-loving Dan getting angry? What happened to your favorite little spiel, Dan? Forgive everyone, wasn’t it? Or did you drop that when you went to Skyhill?” 

Dan sees a flash of red and the next thing he knows he’s rushed forward and he’s got his hands tangled in Brian’s t-shirt, gripping him so tight that Dan’s entire body is shaking. Brian is hurting him. He’s fucking hurting him so bad and Dan just needs it to _stopI_. 

“Jealous?” Brian hisses, voice turning cool. He’s able to be cruel without breaking a sweat. It pisses Dan off how easy it is for Brian to be mean to him now. “You want to be the one kissing Arin? All those jokes about fucking each other hitting a little too close to home?” 

Dan shoves Brian away and Brian stumbles backwards, his back hitting a nearby shelf. Dan’s face is red, his eyes watering, and he’s aching all over, physically, emotionally. In every sense of the word he’s hurting. 

“It was _you_ , you fucking asshole.” 

Now, for once, almost smugly, Dan can tell he’s caught Brian off-guard. 

“What?” Brian asks, tone grim. 

Dan has tears streaming down his face. This is all so fucking embarrassing but he might as well give up every single part of him he has left. All he can do is lie it all on the ground, spill everything. 

“I wanted to kiss you. For a long time. I met you and you were so smart, so put-together. I admired you so much, Brian. It only got worse as we got closer, as we got successful. All my feelings for you grew. It got so fucking big, so scary, and at the meantime I had Arin over here showing me how easy it could all be, touching me, making it all seem more realistic. I freaked out. I wanted you…I wanted _him_ and I didn’t know how the fuck to deal with it. How to choose one over the other or how to only take one of you with me. I had to get the fuck out of here and…I had to leave you both.” 

Brian is silent and Dan closes his eyes. He can’t look at Brian. All of his secrets are out now. He loved Brian, still loves him. Arin too. The reason he left for New York, why leaving them hurt so bad but was so necessary was because Dan fell in love and didn’t know how the fuck to deal with it. He hid everything, brushed it off, tucked it away and convinced himself it wasn’t important, that it didn’t matter. If he spent time away from them he’d come back fixed, come back renewed and better and he could be friends with them again. Now all he managed to achieve was ruining his bands and his life and now most likely his friendships and any shot at something more. 

Dan’s heart is beating too fast, can barely breathe. He watches Brian, sees the gears turning in his head and he feels each second of silence like it’s a weight on his back. 

“ _Say_ something, please,” Dan says, desperate for any response, any words from Brian. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Brian says, meeting Dan head-on. 

Dan feels disappointment surge through him. 

“I understand. I know. It’s too much and you’re happy with Arin and I’m glad. I’m so fucking glad you two can be happy together and I mean it. I hope…I just hope we can get back to a place where we can be friends, where we can talk. I know it’s too soon but in a perfect world I’d like to get the bands back together, NSP and Starbomb, you know?” Dan is rambling, helpless to stop the flood of words spilling out of his mouth. 

Brian stands there and drinks them in, watching Dan fixed and sure. He nods once, a curt aborted movement. “Okay,” he says. That’s it. That’s all. Dan can feel the book close on the conversation and now he’s got to walk out of this storage closet with a tear-stained face and a weakened soul, vulnerable and feeling oddly empty. 

Brian, whether to help Dan or not, leaves first, striding past Dan, their shoulders brushing for the faintest of seconds before Brian quietly pulls the door open and then Dan hears it rattle closed. He waits, breathes, shudders and cries, slumping against the metal door and sliding down to his knees, heartbroken and nauseous. 

\--

Dan maybe hides out. Not even at Barry’s place. He’s rented a hotel room on the outskirts of the city, moving his shit to the hotel while Barry was at work. He doesn’t go into the office. He avoids his phone, especially the concerned calls from Arin. He’s sure Brian told Arin everything. If they were really as close as Brian said, if they were _dating_ or doing something close to it, then it was likely Brian told Arin everything that had happened in that storage closet. 

He feels sick, embarrassed, lost all over again. Brian’s words replay in his mind over and over. _“We don’t need you.”_ Was that true? Dan had created a mess when he left California, was he just starting a fresh round of small disasters since coming back? Should he have just stayed in New York with Pete? 

Dan’s not sure how long he’s been lying in the hotel bed, awake and miserable, the room so quiet around him. He’s not even sure what time it is when he hears the careful knock against his door. His body tightens in bed. He’s sure he flipped the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door so that housekeeping wouldn’t bother him. If he pretends to be asleep then whoever it is will go away eventually. Dan has no intentions to get up to check the door. 

The knock persists and Dan groans into his pillow. 

“I have the sign up there!” Dan calls, trying to sound polite though he’s annoyed that his moping session is getting interrupted. 

“Dan?” a voice says, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Arin. 

Dan jerks up in the bed. Arin? He hadn’t talked to Arin and he hadn’t told anyone where he was going to be, not even Barry who had sent him a string of worried texts once he had gotten home and discovered that Dan and his belongings were no longer there. Dan slides out of bed and pads to the door. He peeks out the small curved peep hole and sure as shit, Arin is standing there, his long hair down and a worried look on his face. 

Dan sets his forehead against the door, eyes closing and hands braced against the cool wood. 

“What are you doing here, Arin?” 

“Can we talk?” Arin asks instead of answering Dan. 

“I want to be alone,” Dan says, though it pains him to turn Arin away. 

“Please, Dan,” Arin says and he sounds desperate, “be alone with me. You just sit there and ignore me while I talk if you want, but just let me in.” 

Dan sighs, hand finding the metal chain that keeps his door locked. He slides it open and then he’s opening the door for Arin. He abandons his position, standing there in a Rush t-shirt and faded boxers to reclaim his spot in bed, piled under the massive comforter, trying to show Arin how serious he is about this wallowing session. 

Dan hears the door click closed and then footsteps and then he feels the bed dip with Arin’s weight as he sits on the opposite side from Dan. 

“How did you even know I was here? I didn’t tell anyone.” 

“This is your favorite hotel. You’ve told me a million times as we passed signs for this place. You used to bring girls here.” 

Dan had forgotten about that but somehow Arin hadn’t. Somehow he kept that small detail alive in his mind and he knew right where Dan would be. 

“And my room number?” 

“Okay, so, like, I know you like this hotel but maybe don’t stay here anymore because I just asked for you at the front desk and they gave me your room number.” 

Dan groans, tugging the blankets around himself tighter. 

“You shouldn’t be here anyway. You should be at Barry’s, or finding a new place, or _my_ place until you find a new place. You know we have room for you.” 

Dan rolls over on his back but he’s still under the covers, hidden like he’s in a shell, like he’s safe from this conversation if he doesn’t actually see Arin. 

“It seems like your life is pretty full at the moment.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Arin asks. 

Dan flips the covers down and off at least to his chest level. 

“You didn’t tell me that you and Brian were…doing whatever it is you’re doing.” 

Dan cuts his gaze to Arin and he watches Arin’s eyes get heavy and his mouth pull down in a frown, and Dan automatically wants to do whatever he can to fix it. He’d do anything to see Arin smile, to take away whatever pain he or anyone else caused. 

“It’s something new. I heard about your blowout with him at the office. I didn’t know he told you that part.” 

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you about it.” 

“Well, Brian didn’t tell me. Ross did. He said he was scared you two were going to fist-fight or some shit. I think Brian was too embarrassed, or maybe worried I’d be upset that you two fought or something, I don’t know.” 

“Shouldn’t you know? Brian’s your boyfriend isn’t he?” Dan asks, more jealousy lacing his tone than he intends. 

“Don’t do that,” Arin says. “He’s not…not _yet_. I said it was new. I’m not sure what’s happening because so much has happened since you came back and it’s all happening so fast. I like Brian, I have feelings for Brian. I want to kiss Brian again—”

“Is this what you came over here to talk about? How much you want to kiss Brian?” 

“No,” Arin says flatly, “I came over here to try and fix this for you two.” 

“Brian hates me,” Dan says. “I don’t think much can fix that.”

Dan feels the bed dip again and when he looks over he sees Arin has laid down on the bed next to him, a good amount of space between them, but it’s still a shock to Dan’s system to look over and see Arin there. He’s on his back, position mirroring Dan’s, Arin’s eyes locked on the ceiling and Dan’s eyes…well, locked on Arin. 

“You really hurt him when you left, Dan,” Arin says. “I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I know you already do. I’m telling you because it scared me, even back then. Brian was suddenly someone I didn’t know, had never seen before. He was drinking himself stupid and he was avoiding everyone. It was like when you left, all the life and fight drained out of him. It took a while for Brian to be okay, to learn how to be okay again. I think he’s scared…” Arin trails off. “Fuck, _I’m_ scared that it will happen again.” 

Arin said he didn’t want to make Dan feel bad, but the wave of guilt washes over him. He closes his eyes and he breathes out a shaky breath. 

“I fucked up so bad.” 

“You didn’t. He just needs time and…you were doing what you dreamed about, what you’ve always wanted to do, Dan.” 

“That was a part of it, but I was happy here with NSP and Starbomb and doing the Grump episodes with you. I could have been content just doing that. I left because things were getting too intense, too much for me to know how to deal with.” 

“Like what?” Arin asks, and then Dan hears the shifting of sheets and fabric and the next time he looks over he finds Arin has turned on his side, hands pillowed under his face, looking too soft and comfortable in bed next to Dan. 

Dan’s heart is beating wildly in his chest. He had confessed to Brian his attractions to both him and Arin, but it was something else entirely to admit to Arin. Arin was the one that made Dan view sexuality in a new and believable way. He was the one who scared Dan more than anything but excited him just as much. Arin made him think he could have what he wanted if only he tried. 

Dan turns on his side, mirrors Arin just as Arin had mirrored him earlier. The room is so quiet except for their shared breathing. 

“Like maybe I was scared because I was getting feelings for him…for you.” Dan lifts his eyes to meet Arin’s, waiting for the knowledge to sink in, waiting for the second things undoubtedly change even more than they already have. 

“Oh,” Arin says, a soft wisp of a breath, barely a sound and his eyes are wide and dark and Dan is scared to look away from them. “You did?” 

“Yeah,” Dan says, his own voice a near whisper. 

“Are they still here, or…?” 

“Still,” Dan says, not trusting himself with more words. It’s the truth, absolute and honest even if it ruins everything. He can’t lie, not to himself, not to Arin, or Brian, or the universe. He has feelings for them, both of them, and he doesn’t know how it works or make sense but it’s there, it’s happened. 

Arin’s tongue flicks across his lips, “For one of us? Both of us?” 

“Both,” Dan says, heart like a bird so desperate to escape the expanse of Dan’s ribcage. 

“Oh,” Arin says again. 

Dan closes his eyes, “I’m sorry. I know it’s too late and too much and I’m so fucking stupid. I just got back, got you back, and here I am ruining it again and—”

Dan is cut off by a hand on his cheek. Arin’s hand, big and wide and warm against his face. Dan’s eyes fly open and he sees Arin, only Arin. The other man’s thumb smooths small circles against Dan’s cheekbone, soothing him. 

“You’re not ruining anything.” 

“I’m not?” 

Arin shakes his head, “No. I can’t speak for Brian but I have feelings for you too, Dan. Since the first damn day I met you. I’ve always been drawn to you, always wanted you, always hoped maybe someday, somehow you’d want me too.” 

“But Brian?” Dan asks, bringing his hand to rest over Arin’s, feeling their shared warmth.

“I want him too,” Arin says, “I do. I want you both. I don’t know if it’ll work or if it makes sense, but I fucking want you both.” 

Dan swallows, thick, feels like he’s choking and so suddenly he realizes what a precarious position they’ve found themselves in. How the inches between them seemed to close, how Arin is close enough that if Dan brought his knee up it would brush Arin’s belly. How Arin’s hand is on his face and how they are drawn like magnets to each other in Dan’s hotel room bed. 

“Can I kiss you?” Dan braves to ask. He doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t know how it works. Doesn’t even know what he and Arin are right now. 

What he does know is that Arin is nodding across from him and Dan moves his hand from Arin’s and instead reaches out to sink it into Arin’s hair, threading into the long strands. He’s leaning forward and closing the space between them, their mouth meeting warm and soft. Dan can’t breathe, can’t think. Arin feels good against him, the soft sweet noise he makes sending a shockwave through Dan. It would be so easy to spiral, to never let go, to stay in this bed with Arin until they make a bevy of bad choices but he knows they can’t do that. 

Like this they aren’t complete, missing a piece that is pivotal and required for this whole thing to work. They are missing Brian. 

Dan pulls back and away from Arin but it takes everything he has to do so. 

“How can we fix this? How can I make it right with Brian?” 

Arin’s eyes are dreamy and alive with something that looks like hope, something that makes Dan feel like it can be okay, that it can work out in the end. 

“Together,” Arin says. “We do it together.” 

\--

For the first time in two years the three of them are in the same room together. It wasn’t an ambush. Brian knew what he was getting when he walked into the room. Arin had been coaxing him for the last few days, holding his hands, kissing his face, asking him, “Please just talk to Dan again. Just one more time.” He had told Brian about the hotel room, about the kiss that Dan and Arin had shared, how Dan confessed to the same feelings he told Brian about in the storage room at the office. 

When he walks into the room Arin is sitting on the couch and Dan is standing. The tension is thick but Brian feels stronger than he ever has before. He feels like the power has shifted around between them, being passed back and forth and now it was in Brian’s hands. It was choice to be here tonight and if he decided he didn’t want to do any of this it would be over. It was his decision. Something steeling inside of him. He’s ready to face them. 

“Brian, hi,” Dan says softly, like he’s in awe. 

Arin is quiet, watching with deep dark eyes that almost match Dan’s. Maybe it’s why falling for him was easy. Maybe Brian was trying to run from as many things as Dan had been when he left them.

“Hey,” Brian says. 

“Thanks for agreeing to talk,” Dan says. “Do you want to sit or…?” 

“Or,” Brian says. “I prefer standing.” 

Dan nods, swallows and Brian can pick out the nerves. He knows he should lower his attitude, make this easier for Dan, but he’s only just begun to forgive the other man, to let him back in. A part of that is still wanting to see Dan redeem himself, to see him squirm just a little. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Dan says, “for running the way I did. I don’t have any excuses for what I did and I can’t change what has happened. The only thing I can tell you is that I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for you and for Arin, and for everyone else because right here is where I want to be. It’s where I belong.” 

“I hope you can see why it’s hard for me to trust your words, Dan?” Brian asks.

“Yeah, I know. I hurt you once and you’re afraid to let it happen again.” 

“Brian,” Arin says, speaking for the first time, frowning worriedly, like he thinks this is going to spin out into another argument. 

“No, it’s okay, Arin,” Dan says, raising a hand to quiet Arin, “He’s right and I hurt him, and all I can do is ask for forgiveness and tell you that I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, Brian.” 

Brian can feel his resolve trembling. He misses Dan too, true and honest he does. He misses it being easy and light. He misses laughing for hours with Dan as they worked on ideas for songs and titles, he misses seeing the way Dan gets so focused in the studio or how happy he is when they nail a part of the recording. There is so much he misses, so much he feels incomplete without. 

“I miss you too. I mean it. You’re not friends with someone for more than ten years and don’t miss them when things aren’t alright.” 

Dan smiles and fuck, Brian has missed that too. 

“You did a number on me, Dan. That’s true, but I feel like myself again and I want to keep feeling like myself. I want to keep feeling better, and I think I want you to be a part of that.” 

“I want that too,” Dan says. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you, Brian. I just want you back in my life. I fucking love you, man.” 

Brian’s heart hammers loud in his chest. He knows Dan means love in the broadest of senses. A love meaning they’ve known each other for so many years, a love that comes with experience, with time, but there’s this new angle, this undercurrent of something else that has Brian shaking. 

“Can I hug you?” Dan asks, face sincere and soft, “Is that okay to do?” 

Brian nods and Dan all but rushes at him, looping arms around Brian and squeezing at him with his thin arms, all warm and thin. Brian arms come up and hold on to the leather of Dan’s jacket, worn and comforting, familiar. 

“I missed you so damn much,” Dan breathes. “You have no idea.” 

“I think I do,” Brian mumbles against Dan’s shoulder. 

They pull apart a little, Dan’s hands tracing over Brian’s shoulders and arms, their hands brushing. Arin is still sitting there, still watching. Brian’s knees feel weak. It should all be solved or close to it. He’s ready to make amends and be friends, to carry on with life and music and jump into this relationship with Arin, but there are still fears plaguing Brian, things he can’t wrap this up without being talked about. 

“I know we all know we three like each other,” Brian starts, praying he doesn’t fuck everything up now that it’s on the path to fixed. “I know I want to be with Arin and I know that you and Dan want to be together,” Brian says, addressing Arin now, like he’s the impartial third party, the connecting piece, the rock that supports the two men next to him. Brian looks to Dan and Dan looks quiet and small, braced like he’s ready for impact. “I _do_ have feelings for you, Dan. I always have.” 

“I have them for you too,” Dan confirms, and Brian swallows even as his heart jerks in his chest.

“But...I’m…I’m not ready for that…that kind of thing with you. Not yet. I…I feel like I need to learn you again. Does that make sense? I’m sorry if I’m spoiling the whole thing…if I’m ruining this I—”

Arin stands and he’s right there, and he has Brian’s hand laced in his own. 

“Shh, hey, no it’s fine. It’s fine. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want. Right, Dan?” Arin asks, looking back to Dan. 

Dan nods and he’s right there, touching Brian’s shoulder comforting and firm. 

“That’s right, it’s fine. If you don’t want that now or ever it’s fine. I just want to be in your life, I just want to be around.” 

“I don’t want to be the one thing that keeps this from being perfect.” 

“Even the fact that we’re all three together in this room right now and talking is perfect,” Dan says. “That’s enough for me.” 

Arin nods, “Me too. There are no rules, no set way to go about being in love with more than one person. It’s a process, it’s something we learn and we do it together or separate, we make our rules and what works for us.” 

Brian nods, so fucking glad to have Arin, to lean on the younger man. Arin is so fucking knowledgeable, so able to calm Brian in a way that not much else ever can. Here they are, both of them, confirming that he has that power, that it’s his to hold. No one will blame him for what he wants, what he isn’t ready for, what he may someday want. Arin and Dan are telling him it’s okay and for the first time in a very long time Brian actually feels like it is. 

\--

Three months after Dan returned to California, Game Grumps has never been better. The split episodes are doing well and the fans are more accepting of carrying two different Not-So-Grumps than anyone would have guessed. Brian thinks that most are just happy to have Dan back in their graces. 

There has been talk of music, small emails and texts with things that would make for a good song. Sometimes Dan will send snippets of a funny line he thought of, something he wants an opinion on. No formal word has been said about when NSP will come back for real, or Starbomb for that matter, but Brian misses it and he can feel himself drumming unwritten beats against the surface of his desk as goes through their social media. 

As far as relationships Brian is happy with Arin, is happy to be able to come in and kiss him in the recording room. He’s okay with knowing that Arin is also kissing Dan and Suzy. He’s accepted sharing Arin in those forms and he’s okay. He loves Arin, he knows he does, even for the short amount of time they’ve been together he loves him so fucking much. 

Then there’s him and Dan. They talk. They laugh, they joke like they used to. They spent one night at the office catching up, where Brian let Dan sit him down and tell him stories about New York and Skyhill and to fill Brian in on all the parts he regrettably missed. He likes knowing, likes hearing about it, like it’s filling in those missing pieces of the entire picture of Dan Avidan, the same Dan he’s always known. 

Things aren’t back to the way they were two years ago, but it isn’t bad. It’s better somehow. Brian isn’t one to believe in fate and things that were meant to happen, but he knows logically if Dan hadn’t left, they wouldn’t be what they are now. The same events may not have happened in the right order, the order that left him with Arin, that has him re-learning Dan. That has him and Dan on the pathway to reclaiming what they were and adding even more. 

Brian looks around himself sometimes, the family they created, the whole lot of them laughing and fucking around and being happy, and he’ll scan over Arin, over Dan, how the light is back to their faces, the same light Brian feels warm in his chest and he knows that Dan absolutely belongs here with them, with him, with his family.


End file.
